Keys to His Heart
by Itachi'sGirl2
Summary: After being turned against his brother by Galbatorix, Murtaugh struggles to find himself. Can a mysterious young girl help him discover where his loyalties lie? Rated for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Eragon or any characters associated with the book or movie!

Read and Review please. I'd like comments just to see what you guys think! )

**Keys to His Heart**

Chapter One  
Murtagh was sitting on the edge of a lake near the city of Urû'baen. It was probably one of the last places near the castle that was beautiful. He liked to come here, it was easy to think in the silence. And now he needed time to think, time to think about Eragon. Eragon; his friend, his brother, his rival. He felt Thorn touch his mind and an image of a deer bounding through the forest flashed through his mind. He shook it away and got to his feet. The moon was pretty, he thought, the way it shone down on the water was peaceful. Usually he was on missions for Galbatorix, so he didn't really have time to think about his last encounter with his brother. As much as he wanted to fight by Eragon's side again, he knew that it would never happen. Besides, the king only wanted to reunite Alagaësia. Why couldn't Eragon see that this was what was best?

He shook his head and began to walk down the shoreline. He was just rounding the bend when he saw it, a flash of silver. His senses quickened, was that a footstep? He jogged into the woods, his bow slipping off his back and his hand reaching for an arrow from his quiver. He stopped behind a tree, laying the bow on the string. Cautiously, he peered around the trunk.

Immediately, his jaw dropped in amazement and the hand on the bow relaxed. A girl stood in the clearing, practicing with a shinning silver sword. He recognized it immediately as a Dragon Rider's sword, because of the glowing quality and the amazing beauty of the entire piece. A crystalline dragon reached its noble head up the blade, attaching the steel to the hilt. But that wasn't what had caught his attention. For a moment he had thought he was looking at Nasuada again, but no, it couldn't be her. This girl's hair was longer and her skin lighter. As he watched, her robe swirled around her, revealing the black skirt and mini-shirt she was wearing. Silver hemming shone at the edges, it was that he had seen earlier. She dipped and swirled, her blade weaving back and forth and he watched, mesmerized.

She was very good, he had to admit, her swordplay was fast and sharp. As his attention slipped, he leaned against the tree and the bark crumbled, creating a distinctive crackling noise. She whipped around and for the first time he saw her face. She had deep brown eyes that seemed almost black in the darkness. Her face was slender and there was a look of wariness on it now, like a wild animal. He stepped out of the shadow of the tree and she saw him. As he did so, he saw shock, then fear flash across her face. Before he could move, she had sheathed her sword and was sprinting away through the forest. "Wait, come back!" he called after her. But he was amazed by her speed, she was weaving through the forest like a deer. He tried to follow her, but with her dark cloak, the blackness of the forest swallowed her up and he came to a panting halt. Whoever she was, wherever she was going, the middle of the night wasn't the time to track her. But as he summoned Thorn, he couldn't help but wonder about why such a beauty and skilled swordswoman would be forced to practice in the forest, and only in the dead of night.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The next week he was occupied with a mission set before him by Galbatorix. But whenever he had a chance, his mind always slipped back to the girl he'd seen. Images of the girl and her sword wove in and out of his dreams. He had already assured himself that he wasn't just dwelling on her because she was pretty. There was something about the expert way she'd handled her sword that drew him, he told himself this over and over again. The easy grace that she'd wielded her blade with had astounded him, especially because the sword looked so heavy. Sure, Zarroc was easy enough for him to hold, but Dragon Rider's swords weren't easy to use. It had seemed as if the blade was glued to her hand, willing to bend to every aspect of her will.

Thorn contacted him often, asking why his mind was so distracted. He had told his dragon of the girl on the very night he had seen her. Murtagh could tell that his partner was becoming increasingly annoyed by his lack of concentration. "She may wield a Dragon Rider's sword, but she is not a Dragon Rider. Your lack of focus is going to get us both killed." The dragon would constantly remind him. _But there aren't that many Dragon Rider's swords that escaped the purge of the riders. Surely there must be some way that she managed to secure one. _Murtagh would respond. His dragon's lack of interest in the girl was bothering him, mostly because he and his partner rarely disagreed on subjects like this. "You saw some girl wielding a sword that may or may not have been a Dragon Rider's sword." The dragon would retort, flicking his tail with impatience. "But isn't it at least worth thinking over?" Murtagh would ask over and over again. To which the response would always be, "If it's bothering you that much, why don't you just go tell the King?"

Something about the situation made him reluctant to tell the King of the girl. Galbatorix would take this news very seriously, as he had tried his best to get rid of every trace of the Dragon Riders. The fact that there was a sword, and so close to his home, would make him nervous, and a nervous Galbatorix was bad for everyone who had the misfortune of crossing him. He was sure that the dragon could sense his hesitation, as Thorn never made any sort of remark after this statement. _Eragon would have thought that my not wanting to turn her in showed a faint glimmer of my own will. He would have said that I didn't want another person to undergo the same torture that I did, and she'd be in bigger trouble as a dragon rider._

He shook himself even as the words came to his mind. Eragon didn't matter anymore. His brother had chosen his destiny when he'd refused to join the King. Murtagh's stomach burned at the thought of the younger boy, _What a waste of talent._ He kept having to stop himself from thinking about the boy. He often found himself reminiscing about the time he'd spent with his brother and his brother's dragon, Saphira. But as often as he did this, he would dismiss the thoughts. Things would never be the way they were before, he and his brother were enemies. As long as the King desired it, Murtagh would defy everything that Eragon stood for.

Upon his return to Urû'baen, he'd made his report to the king, then been dismissed to his chambers. It still irked the proud, young man to be dismissed like a common servant, but the King knew his true name and the true name of his dragon. It was a burden that Murtagh would have to bear. He was so occupied with his thoughts that he strode headlong around a corner and crashed into a person coming in the opposite direction. As he picked himself up, a girl's voice said, "Watch where you're going." He looked up, anger flaring in his stomach, but whatever he was going to say died on his lips. He immediately recognized the dark skin, brown eyes, and dark brown hair. She was glaring at him as she picked up the bag she'd dropped.

For a moment, he wondered why she didn't recognize him, but then he'd remembered he'd had his cloak on. She probably hadn't seen his face. Thorn sent a questioning probe into his mind, but he pushed it away, trying to concentrate on the present. He bowed slightly, "Begging your pardon." He hissed the words as sarcastically as he could. Her glare softened to a look of slight amusement, "Do you work here?" He hesitated, then nodded, letting his eyes travel over the cloak she was wearing. There was no sign of the sword by her waist. A soft smile lit her face, "Could you possibly point me in the direction of Lord Murtagh's chamber? I've been assigned to be his servant girl." For a few seconds, Murtagh was at a loss for what to say, then he nodded, "Follow me."

As she fell in step beside him, she asked, slightly nervously, "Do . . . do you know Lord Murtagh?" He shrugged, "I've met him a few times." He noted the simple black dress she was wearing now, it hid her build very well. If he hadn't seen her in the forest, he would never have thought she knew how to use a sword. "What's he like?" He glanced sideways at her to find her staring intently at him. She noticed his look and said, "It's just, I've known many people of power and they're all arrogant pigs. They think they're so great and treat everyone else like dirt." He restrained a small laugh, "He always seemed alright to me." His eyes flickered to the bag in her hands, it was large enough to conceal the sword, but he suspected that she also had clothes and other things in it. He turned to look at her, "I'll carry that for you."

Her fingers tightened unconsciously on the package. For a moment, he saw the dark eyes flash, but they cleared almost instantly, "No, I'm alright. Thank you though." He could tell that the package was at least slightly heavy, but she carried it with a light step. Her cloak parted as she walked and he saw the muscular legs beneath the black skirt she was wearing. She carried herself proudly, not like servant, and he could see the spirit sparkling out of her eyes. She looked as much like royalty as Nasuada, but there was an air of ruggedness about her that Nasuada lacked. Despite her fragile appearance, there was strength in her movements and a grace that he associated with trained warriors. So why was she working as a servant girl in the King's palace?

They reached his chamber and he pulled a key out of his pocket. He put it in the lock and turned it, then held the door open for her. She was now eyeing him suspiciously, and her look turned to shock as he said, "I expect you're supposed to sleep in there." As he gestured to the room she clapped her hands over her mouth, "You're . . . you're Murtagh?" He nodded, "And you haven't told me your name." She curtsied to him, "My name is Niya." Murtagh glanced at the clock and was surprised to find that it was past 11:00. "Well, I'm going to bed. Get settled in." He said, turning away from her. Glancing back, he saw her annoyance at being dismissed in such a way. _Not very used to being a servant are you? _he thought to himself, barely hiding a smile. But as he heard her shut the door behind her, he couldn't help but wonder what she was doing here. He had told only Thorn about meeting her in the forest and the dragon would be as surprised at this turn as he was. He sat down on his bed, waiting for his partner to return so he could maybe find some answers.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

He awoke the next morning, slightly surprised by the sounds now echoing through the kitchen in the next room. Pulling on a shirt, Murtagh pushed open the door and stepped out into the main room of his wing of the castle. Niya was in the kitchen, calmly pulling a tray out of the oven that must have had at least six sweet rolls on it. The smell of them was making his mouth water and he met her gaze as she looked up, "Good morning." She returned the gesture as she set the tray on the table, "Those will be pretty hot, so it'll be a good idea to wait a while before you try them." He had been thinking all night of how best to approach her. He really wanted to know about the sword, how she had come by it and her skills, but he wasn't totally sure how to ease into the subject.

He watched her confident steps as she crossed the room, reaching for a basket of fresh fruit on the counter and pulling out two oranges. He casually sat down at the table, keeping his eyes fixed on her. Now that he could see her more clearly, he could see small tokens of her skill that had been hidden by her cloak before. He scar on her shoulder traced a thin line about an inch down her front and back, marking the spot where a blade had bitten into her skin. Her hands were calloused and he could see marks from wielding a blade for extended periods of time. Deciding it was time to try his luck, he leaned back in his chair "So, Niya, do you have any hobbies or things you like to do?" Without even bothering to look over at him, she pulled a knife out of a drawer and growled, "Why don't you just ask about the swordfighting and get it over with."

This, of course, caught him completely off guard and he gaped at her for a moment, "Swordfighting?" She gave an unnecessarily hard slash with the knife, slicing one of the oranges in half and looked up at him, "I already know it was you, that night in the forest. So you may as well come out and say it." He hadn't quite expected this track of conversation and, flustered, simply said, "Well, where did you learn." "My Grandfather taught me." She said in a sharp voice.

The short answer wasn't quite what he was looking for, so he tried again, "Well, where is he? You're very good, so he must be quite a fighter." "He's dead." She said shortly, giving another cut with the knife and spraying orange juice on the table surrounding her cutting board. As he opened his mouth to ask the next question, she cut across him, "The rest of my family's dead too. Urgals came in and wiped out my whole village. I'm 19, my favorite color is black, I hate spinach, and yes I've known how to use a sword for a long time. Any other questions you want me to answer?" He gave her a long look, "Are you done?" She snorted her annoyance at him and put the sliced up oranges on a plate before carrying them out to the table.

There was a long silence as she went back and grabbed the tray of sweet rolls and placed them on the table as well. He could tell from the flush in her cheeks that she was flustered, either that or very annoyed. As he picked up a roll, he decided it was time to continue the conversation, "Do you want to spar with me today?" She looked up from where she was sitting and gave him a flat look, "And where, may I ask, would we fight?" He shrugged his shoulders, "Oh, I don't know, it's not like there's a huge training ground for the King's army about five minutes from here."

He could tell she was fighting back the urge to roll her eyes as she said, sarcastically, "Yeah, there's an idea. Let's take a Dragon Rider's sword down to the King's Training Ground. That's a great idea." When he looked at her, she waved a hand at him, "Don't pretend like you didn't know. It's kind of obvious that it's a Dragon Rider's blade." He nodded before finishing off his breakfast, "So did you get that from your Grandfather too?" She cocked her head to one side, "Sort of. It's an old family heirloom, passed down from my oldest descendants, a bunch of desert raiders."

Murtagh sat up straighter in his chair, "Then you're descended from Dragon Riders?" She shook her head as she got to her feet and walked toward her room, "More likely they swiped it off some dead guy and his dragon." He heard the bitterness in her voice and commented, "You almost sound as if you don't approve." She walked into the room, calling over her shoulder, "I don't hold with many of the Desert Raider's customs. I don't have anything against them, they just think differently."

She returned a few moments later with a package wrapped in her hands. Pulling the cloth away, she revealed a silver sheath in which the sword from the other night rested. "This is Adurna. It belonged to my great-grandfather, then to my grandfather, and then to my father. Since everyone else in my family is dead, it's mine now." She lifted the sword from the sheath and twirled it a few times, listening to the deadly humming noise emanating from the blade. Murtagh cast a glance over his shoulder to where Zarroc sat in its place on the mantle. The two blades were very similar in build, but hers was slightly more slender and decorated.

As the girl held the sword in her hands, he could see a change come over her. Her head was held slightly higher and her shoulders pushed father back. Her dark eyes lost their look of annoyance and instead sparkled with confidence and spirit. It was as if the blade was drawing out the best qualities of its wielder. After staring at the sword for a while, she turned back to him, sheathing Adurna, "We can go back out to the place where I was training the other night if you really want to spar."

He was caught slightly off guard by this as well and he nodded blankly, "Sure." There were a few minutes during which both of them went back into their rooms and began to dress. _I'm going out for a while. Keep an eye on things here._ He told Thorn, sending his thoughts to his dragon. _I trust you heard everything she said? _"Yes" the dragon growled back, "But you should be wary Murtagh. Something about her doesn't seem right." Murtagh pulled on his shirt and belted his hunting knife on, _What do you mean, be careful? She's just a girl Thorn. It's not like I couldn't just kill her if she presented a problem. _"That is the problem." The red dragon responded, a faint ripple of anger emanating from him. "Your fixation with this girl may prevent you from doing just that." Murtagh went back out into the main room and strapped Zarroc onto his belt, _Eragon gave me a chance, even though he didn't know who I was. Don't I own her the same? _Thorn nearly made Murtagh go deaf as the dragon screamed in his mind, "And look what Eragon trusting you did? Now you're enemies and one of you is going to end up killing the other before the end!"

"Lord Murtagh?" He blinked as Niya appeared out of her room. She was wearing her black cloak again, but this time he could see the faint outline of Adurna beneath it. She was carrying his hunting bow, quiver, and a few of his larger knives in her hands. _Just keep an eye on things, will you? _Murtagh sent back to his dragon, closing the link between their minds. "What are those for?" he said, pointing to the things in her hands. "So if anyone asks where we're going, you can say you're going hunting. I don't think anyone would believe you're above making a servant girl carry your things." She said in a calm voice. He was almost annoyed, but then he saw the faint smile on her face.

"For a servant girl, you sure have a lot of attitude." He growled as he pushed the door open, locking it behind her as she exited the room at his side. She shrugged as she fell in step slightly behind him, lowering her eyes to the ground, "It's just that I'd hate to see you get bored with no one to fight sir." He laughed softly as he led the way down the stairwell and out of the castle. As usual, there was almost no one around, no one really liked being in such close proximity with the King.

The town surrounding the castle was just as deserted as the castle itself. Even the wind and plant life seemed to have deserted this part of the country. "So, what made you decide to come out and tell me you knew I'd seen you?" he asked in a casual voice. She glanced sideways at him before answering, "You don't seem to mean me any harm." He gave a small laugh, "I could kill you now though." She raised an eyebrow at him as a look of challenge crossed her face, "I don't think so, but at any rate, you haven't told Galbatorix about me. That, at the very least, earns you some level of respect and trust from me."

"How do you know I haven't told the King?" Murtagh asked in a sly voice. She made an exaggeratedly thoughtful face, "Let's see, I'm not in chains, nor am I in a dungeon, nor am I dead, so I think it's a safe bet to say that you're the only one who knows about me. That would be a big deal to the King. A girl who just happens to own a Dragon Rider's sword would be a big target for him." "But I could have told him and he wanted me to spy on you." Murtagh suggested, stepping lightly through the trees. "Even if he did, which I'm pretty sure he didn't, you wouldn't turn me in, not yet." She said in a confident voice.

He stopped as they reached the clearing and looked at her, "What makes you say that?" She ran a hand through her hair, "You're not as bad as everyone says you are. And you have a much more objective viewpoint having been on opposite sides of the same war." "So you're pinning your life on the fact that I'm a traitor?" he asked with a laugh. She nodded a few times, "That, and I'm good at reading people." They spread out on opposite sides of the clearing, drawing their swords and tossing their cloaks aside.

"Well, come on then." He called to Niya. She raised an eyebrow, "Aren't you the challenger?" He laughed and raised his sword, "Fair enough." He lunged at her, Zarroc flashing through the air. She sidestepped and slashed at his back as he went by. He twisted sideways, trying to land a blow on her legs. She danced out of range, her sword reaching for his face. The silence dissolved into a series of clashes and slithers of steel as their blades met again and again. They danced in the light of the mid-day sun, a dance of steel and skill. Swords arched toward their targets and bodies were buckled and twisted as the owner dodged the attack.

At times they were nearly three feet apart, but at others they were less than an inch apart. Their taught forms so close together that they could feel the heat rising from the other's skin. Then they were tossed apart again, swept up in the tide of battle. He was amazed at her control. Much to his surprise, she was better than he had expected. Despite the fact that he was much stronger, she always arranged her parries so that she could simply push his blade aside, letting is skate of Adurna's edge.

After a span of what may have been years or a few moments, they broke apart. Their blades met in an explosion of fury and both were thrown back several feet. Dirt and dust flew from beneath their boots as they halted their progress, leaving them nearly eight feet apart. Both were panting hard and dripping with sweat. Murtagh stared into Niya's blazing eyes, mentally calculating the distance between them. Neither of them moved and he realized that she knew what he knew. The spot where she was standing now was a mere inch outside his range and he guessed that it was the same for her.

He realized that she was an expert swordswoman, her zone was like a wall put around her. To enter it without any thought of defense would be tantamount to suicide. He saw her stance shift and she dropped lower into her fighting crouch. Her blade was held at eye level, its point directed at him. He didn't recognize the stance, but he held his blade in front of him, letting the edge face her. Her eyes were expressionless, and the moment he began to lose himself in them, she leapt forward. He blinked in shock as she closed the distance between them with amazing speed.

He thrust at her face and she sidestepped, spinning around the blow. Her sword arched and the hilt caught him in the small of the back, slamming him to his knees. When he looked up, he saw her flaming sword held an inch from his throat. "Clever, but you forgot to look down." he said with a smile. Her eyes narrowed and she realized that he was holding the edge of his sword against her stomach, it was a stalemate. The two warriors backed away from each other, both eyeing their opponents.

"Murtagh!" The boy jumped as Thorn's voice echoed through his mind like avalanche. _What is it?_ He growled, rubbing his temples as he recovered from the shock. "The King is requesting to see you. He's sending out people to look for you." Murtagh turned his gaze to Niya, who was sheathing her sword. "We have to get back now. The King's summoning me." Her gaze instantly became clear again and she nodded. Without another word, the two warriors sprinted back toward the castle, back toward the King, and back toward the war.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3

Luckily for him, the King had merely wanted to send him off on another assignment. A lord on one of the farther points of his land had been skimping on his taxes. Not wanting to leave the capital open to attack, Murtagh was to go instead of the King to collect the taxes. Murtagh was slightly surprised that he was being sent out on such a trivial mission. The King usually never missed a chance to show his power by traveling on his dragon.

But Murtagh sensed that something was brewing. Whether it was his magical powers or his connection to Thorn, he could feel a tension in the air, as if a storm were about to break. In fact, Murtagh had thought Galbatorix seemed distracted. Well that was fine with him, a distracted Galbatorix would mean he'd have more time to figure out what to do with Niya. After being dismissed, he went straight back to his chambers. He was pleasantly refreshed after his bout with Niya. He had to admit, the young girl had been much better than he had anticipated. But that only made her situation more precarious. "You would do well to keep you guard up." Thorn growled at him as he contacted the dragon.

Murtagh was in the shower, his dark hair plastered to his head as he responded, _Why? She's good, but I don't think she'd kill me. _The dragon scoffed at him, "Use your head Murtagh, for once in your life. You see a girl wielding a Dragon Rider's sword, she just happens to show up at the castle as your servant, and she just happens to be an accomplished swordswoman? That's a little too much to be coincidence."

_But she's a great training partner, and she seems to mean no harm. _"THAT'S THE POINT OF ASSASSINS!" The dragon roared in his mind, nearly causing him to slip in the shower. _You honestly think she's an assassin? _Murtagh asked with a laugh. "I'm just saying that it's a possibility. And it would make sense." The dragon growled in a low voice. _She was willing to give me a chance. Don't I owe her the same?_

Thorn sighed in his mind and he could feel concern radiating from the red dragon. "You're still thinking too much like your brother." _Leave Eragon out of this. _Murtagh said sharply. "Once again, you fail to see that he is at the heart of this problem. The compassion and trust that you learned from him is eating away at you. The need to feel that trust again, to have someone you can hold on to is driving you to throw away your rational thoughts. You're too eager to trust again."

The words stung Murtagh as he stepped out of the shower and began drying himself off. _And what would you know about trusting one of your own kind? There are only three dragons left in the world! I don't think you'd even talk to Shruiken and Saphira would attack you on sight. What do you know of trusting others of your species? _The words had sounded over the mental link before Murtagh could close it. All of his frustration with his dragon's apparent ignorance of human needs spilling out in one burst. Anger radiated from his dragon, filling his mind with a deafening roar.

"You forget that it is not just your life you are risking Murtagh." The red dragon snarled. "We are one now. If you trust again and she stabs you in the back, it will be the end of me as well." _So now you're trying to make me feel guilty? _The Dragon Rider hissed, wrapping the towel around his waist. "I'm trying to make you see the consequences of your actions. And that they have ripples far beyond what you"

Furious, Murtagh closed the link, cutting his dragon off mid-sentence. He didn't want to hear how stupid he was being. Thorn didn't understand, no one understood, not even Eragon. He had never had trust with anyone before he had met his brother. Eragon had given him trust and faith in those around him. And Murtagh had betrayed that trust. Maybe not by choice, but he had betrayed everyone who had ever believed that he was good: Eragon, Saphira, Nasuada, all of them.

Why couldn't his dragon understand that he needed to trust someone? Thorn had never had another dragon to trust, nor had been too keen to trust any human but Murtagh. But humans were creatures who liked to stick together. Was he so wrong for wanting to have some form of trust with this girl?

He had been so engrossed in his conversation with Thorn that he hadn't realized what he had done until he found himself face to face with Niya. They young girl's face was bright red and her eyes were covered with her hands. For a few moments, he was confused, then he realized that he was still dressed only in his towel. "Oh my gosh . . . uh . . . sorry."

She shook her head a few times, keeping her hands plastered firmly over her eyes, "No, I should have said something." He began to back away slowly, his hands clutching the towel. "Um . . . I just wanted to tell you . . . sir . . . that I'm going out for a little while." She said after a few moments, "And I wanted to ask if you needed anything." Murtagh smiled because he knew she couldn't see him, "Servants don't generally tell their superiors that they're going out." "Generally they don't spar with them either." She pointed out, turning around and lowering her hands.

"Good point, no, I don't need anything." She nodded a few times as she grabbed her cloak, "I'll be back by nightfall." He stared as she opened the door and slipped out, wrapping the cloak around her. A sudden thought entered his mind and he contacted his dragon. _Thorn? _"Oh so you're going to listen to me now?" _You're still mad at me, aren't you. _"Yes" _I need your help. _He said in a pleading voice. "That much is obvious." The dragon said in a snappish voice.

_I want to follow Niya. She just left and I want to know where she's going. _"So you've finally come to your senses?" The dragon growled. _No, I still trust her, I just want to know where she's going. _"Right. Keep telling yourself that. That like saying, I'm not going to cheat, I'm just going to make sure he has the same answers as I do." _You're not helping. _"Sorry"

The red dragon was waiting for him as he reached the ground. Even as he approached, the giant, triangular head turned in his direction and the large eyes glowed at him. "I'm sorry I upset you." He spoke the words aloud rather than over their mental link. There was a snort of hot air from the dragon's nostrils they pulled at his clothes and hair. "Singeing me won't solve anything." He pointed out again, striding forward. "Doesn't mean I don't want to." The dragon rumbled, flexing powerful wings as Murtagh climbed onto his back. "Can we at least agree that we should follow her?" The dark haired boy asked. "Yes" "Then hurry, and try to be quiet. I don't want her to realize we're here." "You do realize that I'm a gigantic red dragon right?" "Yeah" Thorn snorted again as he spread his wings, "Just checking."

Dust sprayed from beneath him as he lifted into the air, buffeting Murtagh against his back as he rose to flight height. Speeding forward, the dragon took off, "Where do you think she is?" Reverting back to their mental link, Murtagh replied, _If I had to guess, I'd say its somewhere beyond the forest where I first saw her. _The dragon rolled his eyes, "Trust a human to come up with a plan, but no idea how to execute it." _Trust a dragon to be difficult about everything. _Murtagh retorted. Thorn gave a low rumble of laughter as he sped forward, "Yeah, but it's much easier to be difficult when you're my size and can breathe fire."

**Sorry this one took so long. I didn't even realize I had this on my new computer.  
Next one should be up within the next two weeks, I have to take exams so it may  
be later as opposed to sooner. **


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Eragon or any characters  
associated with it**

Chapter 5

It took longer than he had thought to find her. The girl was indeed faster than he thought and she was nearly a mile and a half away before they finally saw her, weaving through the forest. Her black cloak was streaming out behind her, almost making her look as if she had wings. The silvery mist that swirled around her feet almost made her invisible, she looked like a shadow from his height. Her movements were perfectly coordinated with the shadows in the forest, so sometimes he lost sight of her for minutes at a time as she weaved through the undergrowth, following paths known only to her and the various inhabitants of the forest.

_She runs like an elf. _Thorn hissed in his mind, swooping just below the clouds, ready to dart upward into their cloaking mist should the girl look up. Murtagh nodded, this girl reminded him very much of Arya in her physical ability and the grace with which she ran. Even if she wasn't of the same species, she was just as much of a warrior as the elf-woman. Thorn was flying easily, but his wing beats sounded like crashes of thunder in the stillness of the night. _Could you fly a little more quietly? _Thorn craned his neck around to stare at his rider, _I'm a gigantic, flying lizard! You try flying quietly when you weigh over 5,000 pounds._ Murtagh narrowed his eyes, _That's not fair. You know I'll never have that problem. _Thorn chuckled, _Keep eating so much of Niya's food and you may prove yourself wrong._

They lapsed into silence as the girl ran onward. The moon was now high in the sky and cloud cover was getting scarce, a fact which was unnerving Murtagh more and more. He was almost startled when his partner broke the silence, _If she knew she had so far to go, why did she not bring one of those deer-animals you call horses? _Even as the dragon spoke, Niya reached a small clearing, one that Murtagh had never seen before. She halted and looked around, lifting a hand to her mouth. A shrill whistle rent the night and another whistle sounded from somewhere to her left. _A human? _Murtagh asked. _No, not human._ Thorn growled, hovering high above her. _A horse._ Even as he spoke, a gray stallion came running out of the woods and skidded to a halt next to her. It nuzzled her shoulder in an affectionate sort of way.

Thorn's stomach rumbled and Murtagh felt the dragon's heartbeat increase. _You can hunt later._ Thorn growled low in his throat, _How would you feel if half the world smelled like food to you?_ Suddenly the dragon's muscles tensed, _Look._ Niya had mounted the horse and was riding through the forest again. _Where do you think she's headed? _Murtagh asked, nudging Thorn's sides as the dragon climbed a bit higher. The red dragon shook his massive head, sending a shiver down his body as droplets of ice cold water dislodged themselves from his scales,_ I don't know. I've never been out this way_. Murtagh glanced around them, checking far-off landmarks and glancing up at the stars overhead, _No one ever goes out this way. Why would she be coming over here? _The dragon suddenly gave a low rumble in his chest as his head swung from side to side,_ This is the Blackvein Forest, and over to the west, in its heart, is the Bloodwing Swamp. These woods are supposed to be haunted. _

Even as he spoke, sudden wisps of mist began to rise from the tops of the trees. Murtagh stared down at them in disbelief. Thorn's muscles clenched beneath the saddle and he growled, _The forest reeks with unhealthiness. Pain and horror breed here._ As his words died on the air, there was a faint, inhuman scream, and a smoky figure suddenly leapt from the treetops. It slammed into Thorn, who shuddered and lurched sideways. More figures sprang from the trees, hitting the dragon, who was now snapping at the figures. One flashed past Murtagh, who drew Zarroc and drove the crimson blade into the face of the specter. There was no effect and he was almost thrown off his dragon as the sword sank effortlessly through the figure. _What are these things? _"I don't know."Thorn roared as one of the figures disappeared into his chest. His wings folded and the red dragon plummeted through the air and slammed into the ground, creating a deafening boom.

Murtagh was flung from his back and went headfirst through a patch of reeds. The ground seemed to disappear from beneath him and he tumbled forward, unable to halt or slow his progress. He landed with a soft grunt on a patch of boggy ground and shook the dirt from his eyes. A white fence seemed to rise before him and a chalky smell filled the small cave he'd fallen into. Light streamed in through small holes in the roof, but the cave was dank and looked eerie in the half-light. Then he blinked, it wasn't a fence before her, it was a skeletal ribcage, a massive ribcage. She jerked back, forcing herself to her feet. A massive skeleton lay before her, the skeleton of a long dead dragon. It's bones were bleached white and cracks in them gave tribute to some horrific injury. Some, he realized, were inflicted while the creature was still alive, for they had begun to heal. She followed the spinal cord to the giant skull in which ivory teeth and spines still gleamed. Then, next to the skull, she saw a human skeleton; the rider that the dragon had died trying to save.

Even as he stared, an eerie, red glow seemed to fill the rider's hollow eye sockets and the grotesque skull turned on its neck to face him. The jaw was mangled and broken, but as he stared, it quivered slightly and a raspy voice echoed through his mind, "Traitor." He screamed, staggering backward and feeling his hands and feet sink into the muck beneath him. His eyes flickered to the ground. It wasn't water the dirt was soaked with, it was blood. The skeleton was still staring at him, "Betrayor . . . traitor." He shook his head, "No, I'm not a traitor." His voice sounded strange to his own ears, choked with terror. The sounds of Thorn outside, battling the phantom figures had been muted, leaving only the raspy voice of the long-dead rider in his brain.

"You are not fit to be a rider. Cowering lapdog, whimper at the feet of your master. You betrayed your heritage, betrayed your own blood." Murtagh's voice grew higher with fright, "I had no choice. Glabatorix" At the mention of the name, the skeleton hissed, a rattling sound that sent chills down Murtagh's spine. The red glow in the hollow sockets grew brighter, "You are no better. What honor is there in licking the boots of a traitor? You defile the title of dragon rider." There was a faint pause during which Murtagh lay, glued to the ground. His body was paralyzed with fear, quivering violently from head to toe as he stared into the face of his predecessor. The skeleton drew another rattling breath and Murtagh felt himself getting lost in his glowing red eyes, "I have seen what is to come, Murtagh, son of Morzan. Let me show you the future you are heralding."

Images flashed through Murtagh's mind. A blood red moon floated over a bloodstained field, the bodies of men, women, and children scattered about as scavenger birds descended. Faces of men he had known, women who had waved to him as he and Eragon paraded around the stronghold of the Varden, children who had laughed and gazed at him in awe. Nasuada lay dead on the field of battle, her beautifully made armor rent to shreds and multiple weapons, knives, swords, and arrows still protruded from her carcass. Murtagh tried to close his eyes, tried to block out the image, but more continued to invade his consciousness. Arya lay upon a table, horrific burns and gashes marring her skin. Brands covered the ivory flesh and blood trickled from either corner of her mouth. She gazed directly into his eyes, coughing as more crimson liquid trickled from her mouth, "I . . . will never . . . give in."

Eragon lay on the cold stone floor before the king, writhing in agony as Galbatorix stood over him, smirking with delight. "If you will not join me," the king hissed in a soft voice, "then you will die." In a corner, Saphira was chained to the ground, her neck twisted at an horrific anger so that lather covered her lips and her labored breathing was audible all around the room. The king muttered something under his breath and Eragon screamed in pain, his body convulsing as he cried out, "Murtagh! Brother! Help me!" Niya stood before him, a look of absolute shock on her face. Her hair floated around her, as if in slow motion. Suddenly she cough and a spray of blood flew from her lips. He looked down, a blade was lodged firmly in her chest, its point protruding from her back. He looked further down the blade, his hands were wrapped around the hilt. He released the sword in horror, watching as the girl sank to her knees, her hands clutching Zarroc's hilt as she attempted to dislodge it from her chest, "M . . . Murtagh . . . why?" The King's voice whispered in his ear, "All will be well my servant."

Voices began to scream inside his head as the images repeated themselves over and over again, showing him the dead faces of his friends, his enemies now. "We trusted you Murtagh." "Why have you betrayed us?" "Servant of the Empire." "People like him can never change their destiny." "Traitor!" "I knew we couldn't trust him." "Brother help me!" "M . . . Murtagh." He clutched at his head as the rush of voices grew louder and the smell of blood and rotting flesh invaded his nostrils. Finally another voice reached his ears, terrible and malicious in all its cunning, his own voice, "The new empire has already begun."

**Please forgive me for the ridiculously long wait. I'm going to a military college now so I've been kinda busy.  
Thanks for all the reviews and plz keep them comming. Chapter 6 up soon, I promise.**


	6. Chapter 6

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Eragon or any characters  
associated with it!!!!**

**Chapter 6**

"NOOOOOOO!" He tore his gaze away from the skeleton's and charged up the slope behind him, pulling himself up with both his hands and feet. "Thorn? Thorn!" The deep rumble sounded in his mind as his partner responded, _I'm a little busy right now. _Somehow even the dragon's sarcasm calmed him and he crested the top of the hollow and gasped in shock. His dragon was lashing, his teeth and claws and tail flailing as he tried desperately to fend off the shadow specters. Fire billowed from his jaws, sometimes in a long spurt, sometimes in one blazing fireball. Murtagh rushed to his dragon's side, his bow rising to firing height. Thorn roared, snapping at a phantom that was hurtling toward Murtagh. His jaws clicked together painfully, by all appearances trapping the shadowy figure between his massive teeth, but the ghost merely continued gliding forward, unharmed. The dragon's cry of frustration echoed through the forest.

Murtagh let fly an arrow that hissed toward its target. It seemed to go straight through the face of the monster. More arrows spat from his bow, but each of them soared harmlessly through the body of his attackers, who were closing in on them. The nearest creature reached out with a clawed hand, snapping the weapon in half. Thorn belched a ball of fire at one, but the creature merely turned, opened its shadowy mouth wide, and engulfed the ball whole. There was a hissing noise and suddenly the creature seemed to expand, growing in size until it was nearly the same size as Murtagh. _Oh come on, _The dragon hissed, _How is that fair?_

Murtagh slashed at another with his sword, but it passed harmlessly through the creature's stomach and then he was thrown back as it lashed out with a paw. He staggered backward, his hands over the gash on his chest. _What the hell are those things? _"Murtaugh, step back!" Niya was running through the trees, her sword held out in front of her as she charged. As she spoke, the moonlight shone down upon her, touching the sword into a soft silver glow. The girl skidded to a halt, dropping into battle stance and tightening her grip on Adurna's hilt. The light emanating from the blade grew brighter, and Murtagh fancied he saw the sword quivering, as if it too, were ready to fight. "Well" she said to the shadowy figures, which had retreated slight at her sudden entrance, "come at me."

As if on cue, the nearest specter glided forward, its jaws gaping and claws reaching for her. Adurna sang through the air and slashed through the monster, which fell and exploded before her. The other shadows sprang together and she ran forward to meet them. She wove and dodged as a rain of shadowy claws and fangs missed her by inches. Her sword became a flashing blur amongst the figures as it sliced through their ranks. As the last of them fell, exploding as her blade sliced him in half; she turned and faced the astonished dragon and his rider. Adurna's white light brightened as she drew a deep breath before returning the sword to his sheath.

Her dark eyes turned to him with a look of disgust, "Let me guess, you were taking an evening flight and got lost, right?" He glowered at her, "I had it under control." She raised her hand, without looking, and pointed toward the impression in the ground, "Just like they did, huh?" Murtagh shuddered, "Who are they?" She shook her head, "There will be plenty of time to explain. For now, follow me, we must hurry before they bring reinforcements." Murtagh glanced around as Thorn spoke into his mind, _we must get out of here Murtagh, I can feel the darkness returning. _Murtagh glanced backward at the dragon as Niya leapt off into the forest again; _I'm not leaving her here. _The dragon nearly roared in frustration, _Fine I will bear her as well if she can tell me where to go. _"Niya!" he called after her. The girl reappeared, her eyes wide, "What? We must leave." Murtagh gestured to Thorn, "He will bear us both if you can tell him where to go." She nodded, following him to Thorn's side and leaping easily into the saddle. Murtagh settled himself behind her, awkwardly placing his hands on her waist.

The girl leaned forward, "Master Thorn, we must go west, there is a place where they cannot follow us. You will be able to sense the difference between it and the surrounding forest." The dragon nodded, lifting them into the air with a few massive flaps of his wings. Murtagh felt the girl shudder and leaned forward, "What's wrong?" She shook her head, "Riding a dragon is much more difficult than riding a horse." _Rightfully so. We are proud, powerful creatures, those deer-animals are content to work as your slaves. _Thorn snarled in Murtagh's mind. _You can degrade them all you want, but for now can we PLEASE get out of here? _Murtagh retorted. Thorn took off over the forest, His wings beating rapidly, he shot forward.

Niya was clutching the front of the saddle, her entire body shaking. "What is this place?" Murtagh whispered, staring down at the dank forest. There was a brief moment of silence before Niya responded, "It is called the Blackvein Forest, for it sits atop an ancient mining site, where once the dwarves gathered opals. They were a strong people, building vast and intricate systems to drain the swamp and make the land ripe for farming. But they were attacked, slaughtered in their cities. One by one, their outposts fell until they were defeated in the heart of their capital. The system of canals fell into disarray and the swamp reclaimed its territory, overrunning the works of the dwarves." She turned in the saddle, glancing around them as she continued, "Still, the forest mourns the loss of its inhabitants. Their spirits still roam their beloved land, attacking anyone who dares to defile it with their presence." Murtagh blinked, "Then those phantoms or whatever they are . . . are the spirits of the dwarves?" She nodded, "Along with any travelers who may have fallen victim to the specters of the swamp."

She pointed to a spot behind them, a darker patch against the canopy of trees where it seemed a black mist hung over the vegetation, "That is the heart of the forest, Bloodwing Swamp." Murtagh stared at the patch, unable to repress a shudder as he muttered, "Bloodwing?" She nodded, "Yes, a creature lives there, fouler and blacker of heart than any that has ever walked this earth, save perhaps Galbatorix and his henchmen. It is a creature of shadow, one who's name and origin were lost long ago." Murtagh's next question was interrupted by a snarl from Thorn, _Company._ Murtagh looked down. The phantoms were once again emerging from the forest, arching up toward them. Niya's eyes flickered to them and her hands left the saddle as she drew Adurna from its sheath. She raised the sword above her head and words leapt to her lips, "Gath un reisa du rakr!" The blade throbbed and a pulse of silver light exploded from it. It struck the phantoms and they crumbled away to dust, but the pulse didn't harm her friends, it passed through them like a cloud.

Far off in the distance, the mist around Bloodwing shuddered and an inhuman screech echoed through the forest. An icy wind blew from the heart of the forest and suddenly the blood in Murtagh's veins ran cold. Thorn shivered, _the shadow has awakened._ Niya's eyes widened with terror, "Hurry, get inside the boundaries!" Thorn needed no urging from Murtagh, the dragon's speed increased as he followed some trail only he could sense. A clearing appeared in the distance and the darkness behind them surged. The air felt dead and cold and heavy. Murtagh felt as if he were having trouble breathing, as if he couldn't force the breath into his body. Niya was shaking before him, her fingers tightly gripping the hilt of her sword. Behind them, another scream ripped through the silence of the night and the moon went dark.

Murtagh made to turn around but Niya gripped his arm, "Do not look back." The darkness surged again and Murtagh was, once again, seized by the insane desire to look over his shoulder. Niya shook him, "We are almost there, and once we cross the boundaries we will be safe." She was pointing to a line of trees which seemed to rise high above the others, their branches strong and in full leaf. As they flashed over them, she raised her sword once more, "Losna du garjzla!" Murtagh watched as a shiver of power went up the trees and suddenly the air was warm again. Moonlight flooded over them and the dread that had gripped him since he entered the forest suddenly lifted.

_The shadow-creature has vanished; I can no longer sense its presence. _Thorn snarled in his mind. The dragon's entire body was quivering with exhaustion, and he wasn't the only one. Niya swayed in the saddle, nearly toppling over sideways, and Murtagh tightened his grip on her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Adurna rested precariously in her relaxed grip. _Thorn, land! _The giant dragon gratefully angled his flight toward the ground, landing heavily on the rolling green grass. Murtagh returned his attention to the girl in his arms. Niya's head lolled sideways at an awkward angle, her dark eyes were closed, and her entire body was limp. Murtagh leapt off the dragon, carrying the girl over to the shadow of a towering tree and laying her against it.

Thorn followed his master, lying down near the tree. The dragon's muzzle was flecked with foam and his entire body still shook, though less violently than before. "Niya?" Murtagh murmured her name, shaking her gently. She gave a faint groan, her breathing fast and her heart racing. _She's not dead. _Murtagh reported, she's_ just exhausted._ Thorn's massive head appeared beside him, staring down at the girl with an intense gaze, _she can use magic. _Murtagh shrugged uneasily at the unspoken accusation, _yes. _The dragon's growing impatience seemed to grow inside of him until Murtagh finally growled, _she hasn't harmed us yet. _Thorn's anger exploded with the force of a fireball, _yet is the key word. Murtagh this situation keeps getting messier and messier and you still refuse to accept the fact that this girl is an enemy._ Murtagh glared over at his dragon, _an enemy to the King, not to us. _

_Have you forgotten our oaths? We are the servants of Galbatorix, he knows our names. His enemies are ours. _Thorn roared, his frustration resounding over the forest. Murtagh's answer slipped out before he could stop it, _your approval does not make people good or evil Thorn. You know NOTHING about humans! NOTHING! If I trust her, is that not enough for you? _A look of shock flashed across the dragons face, only to be replaced with rage, _and if your trust is unfounded? _Murtagh stared down at the shaking girl; _I will ask her when she has recovered. _Thorn's roar of frustration sounded in his mind, _you mean when she is strong enough to fight back. _Murtagh flinched at the implied accusation, but the image of her, kneeling at his feet with his sword run through her was still too near.

He sat down next to her, wrapping his cloak around himself, _how much did you see while we were fighting?_ Thorn blinked and his response was puzzled, _what do you mean? _Murtagh closed his eyes, _when I was down in that crater, how much of what happened did you see? _Thorn shook his head, _All I heard was you screaming. When I looked into your mind, I could see nothing. _There was a long silence during which Murtagh stared down at the girl lying next to him. _We will get our answers when she awakens. _

The dragon growled in annoyance, but sat down next to him, curling his giant head around so he could see his rider. _I have never felt such overwhelming power before as I did before we crossed that barrier. _Murtagh nodded, wrapping his cloak tighter around himself. As much as he hated to admit it, tonight's events had unnerved him. First his vision of the future, of the violence and bloodshed he was clearing the way for, and second at this newfound discovery. Normal people couldn't use magic; he could only use it because of Thorn. Murtagh reached out, laying a hand on the dragon's bony brow as he stared up at the moon. He needed some answers, and he needed to get them soon.

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Gath un reisa du rakr – unite and raise the mist

Losna du garjzla – release the light

**Next chapter up soon. Read and Review Please!**


	7. Chapter 7

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ERAGON OR ANY CHARACTERS  
ASSOCIATED WITH IT**

**Chapter 7**

He didn't know how long he'd been asleep when Thorn's sharp growl woke him up, _Murtagh, she's coming to. _Niya's brow was furrowed slightly and a light coating of sweat had appeared on her skin. Suddenly she sat bolt upright, her eyes flying open as she stared anxiously around. Murtagh laid a hand on her shoulder, "Relax, we made it inside the boundaries." She stared into his eyes before leaning back against the bark of the tree. Closing her eyes, she let out a long sigh. _Ask her. _Thorn's voice growled in Murtagh's mind. Shooting his partner an annoyed look, Murtagh turned his attention back to the girl, "Niya . . . you used magic." She gave a faint grunt of acknowledgement, her fingers brushing Adurna's hilt.

Thorn's snarl grew slightly louder and Murtagh let out a low hiss of frustration, "How can you use magic?" Her eyes opened and focused on him, slightly glassy, but alert. After a few moments, she muttered, "My family came here many years after the Bloodwing Swamp was created and after its guardian came to the forest. Our people possessed rudimentary magical abilities, particularly the head family, the house I was from." She pulled Adurna up by the hilt, tossing it to him. "My great-grandfather, grandfather, and father studied the spells woven around Adurna, using variations of them to magically rope off a section of the forest for our people. This place became known as the Twilight Valley."

She laid a hand against the tree behind her, "Using the oaks, we created a magical barrier to separate us from the demons of the forest. It was from my forbearers that I gained my magical abilities and from my father and grandfather that I learned to harness it." He stared down at Adurna's hilt. A diamond was inlaid in the hilt and as he stared into it, he felt as if countless unseen eyes stared back at him. "As long as the blood of one member of our clan still lives, the spells we placed on this valley will hold." She reached out and he handed Adurna back to her. She gave a faint chuckle, "I didn't realize how much energy it would take to evoke the spell."

Thorn's dark eyes glowed with fury, _Murtagh; you know what you must do. _The black-haired man looked over at his partner, terror filling his chest, _She just saved our lives._ There was a faint pause where Thorn's incredulous look seared into his chest, _She is a magic wielder and an expert swordsman. You must kill her now! _Even as the words rumbled in Murtagh's mind, Thorn gave a howl of terror and fury. Massive vines as thick as Murtagh's legs were winding their way around Thorn's body. The dragon thrashed and roared, slicing at the thick vines. As Thorn opened his mouth to breathe fire on the vegetation, a thick vine shot out of the ground, wrapping around his snout and extinguishing the flames. Murtagh gave a cry of shock, loosening his sword from its sheath and hacking at the rope-like plants. His sword clanged off at them as if they had been made of steel. A hand descended onto his shoulder and he looked back to see Niya, barely standing, but next to him.

She shook her head, "Your weapons won't work. That is the guardian of the Twilight Valley. It will rise in fury if murderous intent rises within our boundaries." Thorn was on the ground now, the vines slowly tightening around his body. He gave a low snarl, _Murtagh . . . I can't . . . breathe. _Niya took a step forward "Losna." The vines instantly withdrew into the ground, leaving Thorn shaking on the ground. Niya's legs crumpled beneath her and she landed on all fours, sweat pouring down her face. She found herself looking up into Thorn's snarling face. The dragon's growl was audible, reverberating through the trees like an avalanche.

_She just saved your life! _Murtagh snarled, taking a step toward the pair. After a moment, the dragon lowered his head, touching his muzzle to Niya's forehead. _Elrun ono. _She raised her eyes to meet his, "You are most welcome Master Thorn." Murtagh strode over to her side, helping her to her feet, "What are you doing out here anyways?" She was silent for a moment, and then she pointed to a silver pond at the opposite end of the clearing. A shrine sat in the middle, nestled on a small island. A statue of a silver dragon stood on a raised pedestal, its wings flared and its neck arched proudly. "My people believed that the spirit of the silver dragon whose rider wielded Adurna protects this valley. Every third month on the full moon, my family chanted the sealing spell for the Twilight Valley near the dragon statue. It was the centerpiece of our magic."

Niya closed her eyes, "I come a day early, to put flowers on the graves of my people." Murtagh stared at what he had assumed were several grassy hills. Now that he looked closer, he saw that they were the crumbling ruins of houses, their frames overrun by the growth of vines and plants. Thorn spoke in both of their minds, _What happened here? _Niya's eyes hardened until Murtagh thought he could see a blaze of cold fire behind them, "Urgals, protected by the King's spells." Murtagh started in surprise, "Protected by the king's spells?" She grunted, clutching at her chest as a spasm racked her frame. "Our spells are woven to keep out darkness. There's no way the Urgals could have penetrated it without help from a higher power." She glared into the sky, "They came in the night, in numbers far greater than any I have ever seen. The monsters rampaged through our village, killing everything in their path."

She raised her head, "I was ten at the time. I awoke in the dead of night to the screams of my people. I wanted to fight with them, but my father knew the battle was already lost. He dragged me to the stables and strapped me onto the back of my horse, Silversky. The last I saw of my father, he was rushing toward where the Urgals were gathering in the street, celebrating their victory." Her entire body shuddered with pain as tears gathered in her eyes, "I lost my horse during that night in the swamp. By the time I returned to my home, the fires had already consumed most of the bodies."

Unconsciously, she dropped her hand to Adurna and the shivering died down slightly, "Adurna and the statue were the only things of value left in the entire valley. I buried the ashes, cleaned the mud and dirt from the statue, and took my leave. But I return every third month to uphold the spells on my home. I hope, someday, to find any survivors and bring them home." She turned her gaze to him, "You will stay here tonight. With the guardian of the forest awakened, it would be suicidal to leave before the sun rises." Murtagh glanced over at Thorn, who dipped his massive head in assent.

Murtagh's stomach rumbled, causing them all to jump. Thorn's soft chuckle sounded in his head, _At least one of us ate before we came. _Murtagh threw him an exasperated look before looking down at Niya, "Would you know how to find some food?" She nodded, "Yes, but I cannot walk yet. You will have to help me." He nodded, slipping an arm around her shoulders and lifting her higher so that she could stand on her feet. Together they made their way over to one of the further houses. Its door was missing and vines had crept over its face, covering the holes in the roof with a leafy canopy. "This was my home." Niya grunted with exhaustion, "In the back of the pantry, there should be a hidden door behind which there will be food. Master Thorn, please fly around the back. The bedroom was blown out in the attack but there should be enough room for you to enter. We will join you shortly."

Thorn looked over at his rider, who nodded, _Do as she says. _The dragon shook his head, scales clanking ominously, _Mmm, the barrier seems secure and it will be nice to have a good rest. _With a thunderous concussion, he lifted himself into the air, vaulting easily over the house and landing on the other side as Murtagh helped Niya though the door. The inside of the house was strangely clean smelling and airy, with the tattered and faded remains of furniture and decorations. She clutched at a broken table, easing herself onto a wobbly stool as he opened up the pantry. As she had said, underneath a layer of dust, he could feel an indent in the wood. Pushing the panel aside, he found several satchels filled with dried meat, fresh fruits, and vegetables.

"No matter how many times I come here, it never gets any easier." He turned as he heard her whisper the words from behind him. She was gazing longingly around the room, her eyes pausing in several spots. "Adurna used to rest there, above the fireplace." She said, pointing to a pile of bricks that was barely standing. A small smile touched her face, "She wanted it out of my reach because I always wanted to play with it." Her gaze turned to the corner near the broken couch, "Our dog, Dreamer, used to sleep over there." He set the food out on the table, looking around, "Do you mind if I start a fire?" She shook her head absentmindedly, apparently lost in the memories of the house.

Murtagh strode over to the fireplace, a pile of wood lay beside it, obviously placed there at an earlier date. Muttering in the ancient language, he watched as tongues of golden-red sprang up, licking greedily at the wood. _Are you alright Thorn? _He sent the mental message through the wall, sensing his partner on the other side. The dragon's deep rumble sounded back to him, _Yes, she was right about the room accommodating me. There is enough of a roof left to shelter you and my body will keep the cold out. _There was a faint pause where Murtagh rummaged through the pantries, finally coming out with a pot large enough to make stew in. One of the other drawers had yielded a moderate supply of herbs and spices, enough to make stew for both Niya and himself.

The silence in the room was now becoming rather awkward and he finally growled, "Why do you preserve this place?" Her eyes snapped to him and after a moment she said, "My brother's body was not among the remains, nor were those of some of my closest friends. I have to believe they are still alive, because if I were in their shoes I would hope they'd do the same for me." He turned sharply, his heart suddenly throbbing, "Your brother?" She nodded, "Kerecsen, he was five years older than I was." Her eyes clouded with pain for a moment and she muttered, "Do you miss your brother?" Before he could stop himself he snapped, "Eragon is no brother of mine. He is a traitor to the King and as such he is just like any other enemy." Instantly he felt the familiar knot in his chest and, eager to change the subject, he said, "What was Kerecsen like?" She withdrew something from the inner pocket of her clothes, holding it out for him. He took it from her and found himself staring into a perfect painting in which four people and a dog stood.

The oldest was a man with long, dark hair. Tanned skin and hard muscles showed through his clothes. He had broad shoulders and a jagged scar across his left cheek, but his coppery eyes glowed with warmth and his arms were wrapped around the waist of a woman with silver-blond hair. She was much like Niya in build, slender and graceful, but her blue eyes were a stark contrast the darker girl. One of her hands was lying on the head of the dark brown dog; the other was raised above his head, on her husband's shoulder. Beside them stood a teenage boy with the same silver hair as the woman. His build was like his father, but he had his mother's icy blue eyes. On his shoulders, a little girl sat, her face split in a wide grin. She hadn't yet gained the grace and slender build she was to obtain, but it was obvious who the girl was.

Yet as he looked at the picture, a pang of sadness hit him. This girl's eyes were coppery and flaming with warmth and happiness. The eyes he stared into now when he looked at her were darker, as if he were staring into black water. Was that was losing one's family did to them? "It's strange," Niya's words made him jump and he tore his eyes away from the picture, "I both pity and envy you at the same time." He handed her the picture back and she tucked it away as she stared into his eyes. He grunted, looking away, "There's nothing to envy." A spasm crossed her face and she shook her head, "I would be distraught if I knew that my brother was fighting on the opposite side of a war from me. I definitely don't envy the decision you had to make when you fought him."

Murtagh's jaw tightened, he did not wish to talk about his brother. But Niya wasn't finished yet, "At the same time, even if you cannot see him, you know where your brother is, you know that he is safe. I would give anything for it to be the same with Kerecsen." Murtagh's temper suddenly broke its bounds and he snapped, "Safe?! You call what he is safe? Being wanted by the King, being hunted by his own brother, at the mercy of whatever the hell the Varden leaders choose to throw at him? Forgive me but that doesn't sound very safe to me!" She stared at him, her eyes unreadable, and after a while she whispered, "I thought so."

"What?" he snarled, the last of his frustration not yet spent. She slowly climbed to her feet and strode over to a door near the other side of the house, pushing it open and pausing only to light a torch that she seemed to pull out of the wall. Murtagh cursed beneath his breath and stormed outside to get water for the stew. _Your friend is much more insightful than you give her credit for. _Thorn growled in his mind. _You don't even like her. _Murtagh snapped back and the dragon chuckled. _I've grown to quite enjoy her company. _His anger bubbling hot in his chest, Murtagh closed off the mental link as he reached the pond.

The silver dragon seemed to move as the moonlight reflected off the water. Mesmerized, he gazed at it, overwhelmed by its beauty and grace. For a moment, the head seemed to turn and he stared into glowing, crystal eyes. He shook himself, returning his mind to the task at hand as his stomach rumbled again. Unlike the surrounding forest, the chirping of crickets and soft hoot of an owl made this place seem much more comfortable. It was peaceful here, and as the anger in his chest died down he began to enjoy the stillness of the night. As he filled his canteen with water and began to walk back to the house, he let his mind wander back to Niya, what had she meant by "I thought so?" Was there something she knew about him that even he hadn't discovered? _Perhaps her company will be good for you after all. She knows how it feels to lose a family, and her pain is even greater than your own. _Thorn's voice took him by surprise, but he quickly gathered his wits, _How do you figure that? _He heard his partners faint snort before the dragon growled, _You didn't care for your father and you rarely saw your mother. She grew up in a loving family before having it taken from her. _

Murtagh took a few moments to digest his partner's words as he put the water, meat, and herbs into the stew. _You should talk to her. _The dragon prompted. _This place is her only link to her family, but I believe this place pains her. Her home is lost . . . just as yours is._ Murtagh gave a low groan as he placed the pot over the now roaring fire, _You mean apologize for snapping at her? _Thorn's deep-throated laugh rumbled in his chest, _Well . . . more or less. _The dark-haired boy shook his head as he stared over toward the door she had disappeared through._ You're not worried that there may be a trap at the end? _After a slight pause the dragon growled, _Nothing the great Murtagh can't handle. _Rolling his eyes as he pushed back the door, he muttered, _For a dragon, you're very sarcastic. _The last thing he heard was Thorn's soft chuckle, _Well, when you're over two thousand pounds and you breathe fire, you can afford to be._

_*************_

_Losna -- Release_

___Elrun ono -- Thank you_

**Summer vacation has started so I should be getting chapters up more regularly. PLZ read and review and thanks for the reviews I've already recieved. **


	8. Chapter 8

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ERAGON OR ANY  
CHARACTERS ASSOCIATED WITH ERAGON**

**Chapter 8**

He descended into the darkness, trusting his instincts as a rider to compensate for the lack of visibility. The darkness was thick and he couldn't even see the sides of the tunnel which couldn't have been more than two feet away from him. He had no way of knowing how long the tunnel was, but the air was fresh and clean, an indication of ventilation tunnels stretching to the surface, _Or another magical barrier. _He had to admit, the night's events had seriously unsettled him. Niya truly was an enigma to him, a master swordswoman whose heritage and home were wrought with magic. It was most likely for that reason they were destroyed. The King wouldn't have condoned a village of magic users to dwell so close to his capital.

Murtagh thought back to his earlier conviction about Niya's eyes. If that was what losing a family you loved did to you, what did his eyes look like? She had spent the majority of her life searching for her brother, while he was doomed to spend the rest of his life fighting Eragon. Unbidden, her voice rang in his ears, _Even if you cannot see him, you know where your brother is, you know that he is safe. I would give anything for it to be the same with Kerecsen._ Would she feel the same if her brother was a traitor? If he fought for a people who wished to overthrow sound government and bring in an age of chaos? _No,_ he told himself, _she would feel the same anger at him that I do at Eragon._

The tunnel before him suddenly sloped so sharply he almost fell forward on his face. Catching his balance, he lifted his hand and mumbled a few words in the ancient language. Nothing happened and he halted, repeating the spell. Again nothing happened and he felt a prickling on the back of his neck. Never before had he been unable to summon magic, but he felt as if he were being smothered here. Reaching out with his consciousness, he felt the sides of the walls, slowly extending his attention until it met with something solid. A circular casing coated the tunnel in which he walked, a casing that denied any magic within its bounds. Murtagh snorted in annoyance, continuing his trek forward. He had encountered such wards in the dungeons at the King's palace. Where the most dangerous enemy magicians and sorcerers were kept, a shield prevented them from conjuring their magic. Murtagh halted as his hand brushed the side of the wall, signaling that the tunnel was getting smaller.

It was then that he noticed it. It had started off as a faint murmur, barely on the edge of hearing. Yet as he descended further, the sound grew in power until he felt that small voices echoed the words all around him. A faint light began to filter through the darkness and he sped up, hearing the song increase in volume with every step he took. It was in the ancient language, but Murtagh only understood snippets of what was being said. From what little he could gather, the song spoke of an outcast who wandered from place to place searching for its destiny. He took another step forward, marveling at the silvery light pouring through the doorway in front of him.

He froze as he stared at the sight before him. Niya was sitting in a pool of chest deep water from which steam was slowly rising. Murtagh felt his face heating up as he stared at her. She had her back to him, but as he watched, she hauled herself far enough out of the water for her to reach over to her satchel and withdraw her canteen of water. He froze, unable to tear his eyes away from the glistening goddess who was slowly easing herself back into the pool. A faint groan tore itself from his throat as he was seized by an emotion he'd never felt before. He had thought he loved Nasuada, the girl was very pretty and he had felt drawn to her like a magnet. But this . . . was something completely new. His entire being ached to rush over and hold her, to press himself as close to her as possible and never let go.

It was then that he realized that the silver light he had noticed before was emanating from the pool in which she sat. Her dark hair pooled around her shoulders, swaying faintly as the water around her moved. The song, which he now realized she was singing, throbbed in time with the dancing of the water as it radiated silver light, answering her words. The sight of her dark body against the shimmering silver of the pool gave her an ethereal look and Murtagh's breath caught in his chest. Then his reason caught up with him, what was going on here? What was this song and why wasn't Niya concerned that the pool was glowing?

As he pondered this, his foot hit a patch of loose rocks and several skipped forward, grating on the ground. Niya's head whipped around and Murtagh found himself staring into a pair of coppery, shocked eyes. They froze, gazing at each other as both of their cheeks turned a deep shade of crimson. "MURTAGH?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" she shrieked, her voice magnified as it bounced off the walls around them and she sank lower into the water. Murtagh opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Trying again, he managed a hoarse, "Um" There were a few more awkward moments of silence before she spoke again, "Murtagh . . . were you spying on me in the bath?"

His heart nearly stopped, "No . . . I mean I was but . . . I hadn't . . . I didn't . . ." He trailed off, shaking his head in confusion. Niya closed her eyes, putting two fingers on her temple, "Murtagh, if I wasn't naked I would get out of here and put Adurna to good use." He gave a weak laugh, shifting uneasily. "I'm going to pretend that you came down here to tell me the food was almost ready, so will you at least turn around so that I can get dressed?" He nodded wordlessly and turned around, trying to ignore them images that assaulted his mind as he hear the sound of water dripping onto the floor. "Niya," he finally managed. He heard her grunt of acknowledgement and continued, "That pool . . . what is it?"

She was silent for a moment and then she suddenly appeared, fully dressed with her hair still dripping water. "My people called it the Moonlit Mirror. It is said that looking in the mirror will show the looker what they truly are inside. Bathing in it is said to remove the taint of one's soul." She began to walk down the corridor and he followed, hanging on every word she spoke. "It is heated by an underground hot spring, but no one is sure where the light comes from. I tried to find out once, but the light was too intense, I couldn't find the source." Darkness enveloped them as they strode back through the tunnel. "This tunnel is sealed off from magic. Why?" She gave a faint chuckle, "In the hopes that peepers would be scared of the dark and not bother to come in that far." Her voice was amused, but Murtagh wasn't sure whether she was serious or not.

There was silence as they walked the rest of the way, finally emerging into the kitchen where the pot of stew simmered over the fire. She sniffed appreciatively, "Smells good. If you can cook why am I working for you?" He chuckled, "Because stew's about all I can make." "Why doesn't that surprise me? Boys seem to repel cooking." Niya said, rolling her eyes. She strode calmly over to the cabinet and pulled out two bowls along with wooden spoons. She handed them to Murtagh, who calmly ladled out soup into both bowls. There was silence for a moment as they took tentative bites of the stew, blowing on the still steaming meal.

After a while, he looked up at her, "Niya?" She lifted her head, swallowing a mouthful of stew. "What did you mean earlier? What did you know?" The girl was silent for a moment before looking back down at her stew, "You're thoughts are as conflicted as mine once were. I know where you are . . . and where you are going." She moved over to sit next to him on the one couch that wasn't broken. "My brother and I never got along. We fought about everything. He was the perfect child and I was the rebel." She took another swallow of stew, "When he went missing, I was almost glad. I was childish and young and stupid and pleased that finally I wouldn't have to stand in his shadow." Her fingers tightened on her bowl and she hung her head, dark hair falling into her face to hide her eyes, "After a while, I began to realize that in spite of my anger and jealousy of my brother, I still loved him. He was necessary to my life, and without him there, it wouldn't have seemed whole even if everyone else was still alive." He saw her body shudder and she continued, "Kerecsen always watched out for me, even though I was too blind to see it. We fought a lot and often times we believed in different things, but at the end of the day, it didn't matter that we saw things differently or that we didn't believe in the same things. The same blood that flows in my veins flows through his, a proud, noble heritage."

She raised her eyes to meet his and Murtagh suddenly found himself staring into a pair of agonized brown eyes. "Right now, you feel conflicted. A part of you hates him because he is now your enemy, yet at the same time, you remember all of the good times you shared with him. But you cannot bring yourself to reconcile the fact that you still love your brother with your new lot in life." Murtagh stared into the flames, "When we fought, I felt as if I was being torn in two. If I fight, I may kill him, if I do not fight, the King might kill both me and him." She drained the last of her soup and climbed to her feet, "I think you will find that in the end, your brother means more to you than a forced pledge to Galbatorix. No matter what side you and your brother are on, the same pride, faith, and passion to fight for what you believe in flows through his veins that flows through yours. You should be proud of your brother." Murtagh gave a low grunt, "Even if he fights on the other side?" A faint smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, "Do not forget that you were on the other side before you were brought to Galbatorix. Have you truly become his servant, as your father was, or are you an unwilling slave?"

Murtagh's eyes suddenly blazed and he snarled, "Never would I consent to follow that murderer. I am nothing like my father!" Her eyes glowed and she snarled, "Then you best remember that. Because if you truly become a servant of Galbatorix, I will not hesitate to do everything in my power to take you down." He glanced sideways at the girl, "You think that you could?" She moved calmly to the sink, placing her bowl in it and washing it out with the extra water Murtagh had brought in from the lake, "It is no issue to defeat someone who has forgotten what they are fighting for." Her dark eyes blazed as she calmly strode over to the door to the next room, pushed it open. Before she walked through it, she growled, "Go through the opposite door and you'll find Thorn. Goodnight Murtagh."

Murtagh stared after her, his blood beginning to boil with rage. _You know, the more time I spend with her, the more charming I find her. _Thorn growled in his mind. _Shut up._ Murtagh snarled, slamming his bowl down. _She makes you acknowledge things you are unwilling to acknowledge yourself. That is good. _The dragon growled in a low voice. Murtagh stormed through the door, finding himself face to face with the red dragon. _Are all human females so mysterious? _The dragon asked innocently. _If they were, _Murtagh growled, _there wouldn't be very many married couples would there? _He flopped down next to the dragon, leaning against his leg. Thorn growled faintly, laying his head down so that he could see his rider.

Murtagh leaned back against his dragon, staring up at the vine covered ceiling. Niya's voiced echoed in his ears, "It is no issue to defeat someone who has forgotten what they are fighting for." He closed his eyes, _Have I really forgotten what I'm fighting for? _There was a pause before Thorn spoke in his mind, _Perhaps . . . perhaps not. Only you can determine what you fight for and only you can lose sight of that vision. _The Dragon Rider let out a long sigh as his partner continued, _This place weighs heavily on me. Forgotten memories linger in every inch of this place, some of joy, some of sorrow, and some that even I cannot understand. They cry out for remembrance and I daresay that Niya can hear them just as I can. _To Murtagh, his voice was becoming slower and blurred as sleep overcame the young man. A slow fog was enveloping him, welcoming him into the darkness. A voice whispered in his ear, "Surrender to me, Dragon Rider. I must speak with you." In his state of fading consciousness, Murtagh heard his own voice answer, "Yes, I am coming."

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**Quick question for my readers. I can either turn keep this as an M-rated story with a major scene near the end of the story, or I can knock the rating down. Which would you prefer? Read and review as always and let me know what ya think. Thanks in advance!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Blah Blah Blah I dont own Eragon or its characters**

**Chapter 9**

When he opened his eyes, he was standing upon a hill, overlooking the valley. The small village was ablaze, Urgals ran rampant through the town, bursting into houses. The bodies of the dead littered the streets and screams of the dying echoed in the air. Footsteps sounded behind him and he turned around finding himself staring at a gigantic silver dragon. It was quite possibly the most massive creature he had ever seen. Thorn and Saphira were seemed to be babies in comparison to this dragon. Feet the size of wagon wheels left no imprint on the soft ground and wings the length of a medium sized boat were curled against its scaly hide. Murtagh blinked a few times, looking into the creatures's calm, composed eyes. The massive head lowered until it was on the same level as Murtagh's. "Welcome Dragon Rider. Long have I awaited your coming." The dark-haired boy's mouth fell open in shock, "Who are you?" The dragon dipped his head, "I am Chand, my rider once wielded Adurna." Murtagh's eyes widened, "What are you doing here?" The dragon's wings flared and he rumbled, "I was summoned here by Kaylyn of the Gushing Stream, an elf priestess and descendant of my rider. It was at her wish that I became the guardian of the Twilight Valley."

Murtagh blinked, "An elf priestess?" The dragon nodded, "When Malo Silverkin came to this valley, he brought with him his wife, an elf priestess, Kaylyn. Through some twist of fate, Malo ended up with my rider's sword, Adurna, which rightfully belonged to Kaylyn. He returned it to her and she summoned me here, begging me to become the guardian of the Twilight Valley." The black-haired boy took a step closer, his body tensed. "Why do you linger here? Surely you know that nearly all of the inhabitants are dead." The dragon bowed it's great head, "I do not need reminding of my failure young one. I remained after Kaylyn left because her daughter bid me to. As such I have remained at the bidding of each priestess. Even now, as long as Niyathriel bids me to stay, I will."

Murtagh's breath caught, "Niyathriel?" Chand's mouth twisted in the ghost of a smile, if dragons could be said to smile. "Come now, surely you have figured it out." Murtagh nearly choked as the answer hit him, "She . . . is Niya an elf?" The dragon nodded, "Half-elf to be exact. Niyathriel Silverkin is the great-great-great granddaughter of Kaylyn and Niyathriel's mother was an elf as well. The blood of elves runs thick in their family, hence their magic is strong and their resolve even stronger." Murtagh though back to when he had seen Niya running through the forest earlier that night. He had been forcibly reminded of Arya and now he knew why. Raising his eyes to those of the boy standing before him, he whispered, "Then . . . are you a ghost?" The dragon's tail twitched and he grunted, "I am an illusion, the power of Adurna given form. While it is true that I was a dragon at one point, I now exist only as a memory. My power waned when the people were slaughtered."

A look of pain touched his steel-gray eyes and he groaned, "I hadn't the power to fight the Urgals when they came. The more of my people died, the more my power weakened. In the end, I had only the strength to guide Niyathriel safely through the swamp." His gaze suddenly hardened and he growled, "Murtagh, you must protect Niyathriel." Murtagh was almost taken aback by the intense fire blazing in the other dragon's eyes. "Her destiny is far greater than even she can imagine. A greater power is seeking for her, wants her for its own. She must be kept safe!" Murtagh shook his head in confusion, "But why would you come to me?"

Kerecsen's eyes burned even brighter and he murmured, "Because your destines are tightly interwoven. Two such people, who are so alike in so many ways, it could not be any other way. You will mould the future of our world through your powers as a Dragon Rider. In much the same way, she is a vital piece of the puzzle. She must survive." Murtagh nodded a few times, "What role does she play?" The dragon stared at him calmly, his wings flexing. Murtagh's eyes narrowed, "I must know, I must protect her from whatever is coming!" "Her path winds through both shadow and light, there are twists in it which even I know not, yet she must have the strength to endure." Murtagh gave a low growl of frustration, but his expression cleared, "She survived this living hell. Whether as an elf or a human, she is strong."

Screams echoed from beneath them and both boys turned to stare at the village, where the Urgals were piling the bodies of the dead in the streets. "It is a tragic sight, is it not?" Kerecsen growled. Murtagh shivered, "Such senseless bloodshed . . . what is the point of it?" Kerecsen raised an eyebrow, "Yet when you fight you condone the same. You shower the fields in a rain of blood from your sword." Murtagh's anger suddenly rose again, "Only because I am forced to, because my partner and I will be killed if I disobey."

The dragon's tail twitched faintly and his voice dipped a notch deeper to a faint growl, "You believe a lie Murtagh. No matter how small, some part of you relishes the fact that the world can now endure the pain you suffered. Some part of you enjoys bringing pain on a world that showed you no mercy." Murtagh's anger grew as he glared into the burning eyes, "What would you know? You know nothing of me! My feelings are known only to me and I" "Locked them away to save yourself from the pain of guilt and loneliness?" Chand finished for him. "To condone the things you have done, you banish your guilt to a place where you can no longer feel it. You purge yourself of emotion in order to continue to slaughter without conscience. But now that your emotions have begun to catch up with you, they are like salt on your open wounds."

Murtagh would have reached out and hit him had he been speaking to a human, but this creature could have easily crushed him. "You love to believe that there is nothing else to do for someone who has endured as much as you, who feels as trapped as you, but now, you have found another who has gone through as much as you have and still manages to fight against what she believes to be wrong. You are turning into the thing which you swore that you hated." The silver dragon growled, flaring his wings and baring his teeth. Murtagh's temper snapped, "If you understood how much it hurt to feel" "Don't you think that staying in a place which holds nothing but bad memories hurts Niyathriel?!" the dragon roared. Mrutagh's anger froze in his stomach as he gaped at the creature before him. "Here, she watched her family murdered before her eyes, she lost her brother, her entire past, present, and future went up in flames in one night and still she returns here. Do not speak of pain young Murtagh, you do not know the true meaning of that word."

The dragon huffed, letting out a puff of smoke, "She will need your support as much as you require hers. Her human compassion, or weakness as you see it, is what you require to heal. Your steadfast pride and courage is what she requires to continue to exist." He gestured to the sky, "Like the sun and moon, you are two opposites, you complement each other and learn from each other, despite your obvious differences." He leaned down, touching his nose to Murtagh's forehead, "I am counting on you, Dragon Rider." The boy nodded, "I will not fail Chand." The dragon's warm breath washed over him, smelling of fire and wind and a strange, spicy scent that burned every fiber of his being. He felt it flood through him, enveloping him, and suddenly he was floating again in the empty darkness.

He awoke abruptly, sensing that something wasn't right. Thorn was curled up against him, his gigantic eyes closed. Regular, snorted breaths blew from his nose, stirring the dust and dirt on the floor. A faint glow to his left startled him and he was amazed to see the silver marking on his palm glowing in the semi-darkness. Soft moonlight filtered down through the holes in the roof, casting pools of moonlight onto the floor. Murtagh climbed to his feet, careful not to wake the sleeping dragon, and slipped through the door into the next room. It was dark and the ashes of the fire shouldered in a half-hearted way. Crossing the room, he pushed open the door he had seen Niya disappear through. The sight that met him brought him to an abrupt halt. A threadbare carpet lined the hallway, on which a pair of old, mud-crusted boots lay as if their wearer had only just left. But he knew they were not Niya's.

Paintings lined the walls, of Niya laughing and playing on the floor with the dog. Of her father and brother returning home from the hunt, their faces wreathed in smiles and their saddles heavy with meat. Images from Niya's past met his eyes, so clear and vivid he thought they might move and dance about if he stared too long. He halted as his eyes fell upon one of the larger ones. Niya and her mother stood proudly beneath the outstretched wings of Chand. The dragon's head was lowered lovingly as he nuzzled the younger of the two and she rubbed the silver head. Murtagh's chest tightened considerably as another thought hit him, how would it feel to have had that family and lost it? Could he truly miss a family he had never been with?

His eyes lit upon a door to his right. The outside was scarred with marks that looked as if someone had been trying to break it down with an axe. Striding over, he tried the handle, amazed to find it open. It creaked open noiselessly and a sudden sound of sobbing floated back to him. Peering into the room, he saw Niya lying in the bed, her arms wrapped around the pillow and her weapons laid carefully against one edge of the bed. The girl was sobbing in her sleep, crystal tears streaming down her face as she tightened her grip on the pillow. Murtagh gave a faint sigh, he knew that gestured, having repeated it many times as a small boy. He knew that yearning for someone who would never be there, the urge to hold someone who he would never find, yes, he knew it well.

Murtagh sat down next to her, laying a hand on her shoulder and shaking her gently, "Niya . . . wake up." She jerked awake, her eyes focusing on him. He felt a painful twinge of pity as he found himself staring into pools of agony and raw terror. Almost instantly, she wiped her eyes, trying to erase the tears. But he caught her hand, gently returning it to the bed. "Niya, come here." His arms snaked around her and brought her up against him. "Let me hold you tonight." She leaned her head against his neck, "Help me." He nodded, slipping himself beneath the covers and pulling her back against his chest. After a few moments he whispered, "I know where you are. I'm lost there as well." He pulled her closer as he growled, "You feel trapped in a sea of emotions and obligations that are slowly tearing you apart, killing you in inches. You ache so must and you feel so messed up on the inside, but the outside never shows it."

She nodded, closing her eyes, "Just once, you wish someone would look beneath the surface and she how much you hurt. You have to be so strong for everyone else, but there's no one to be strong for you." He felt his body began to shake as he whispered, "I don't know how to make what I'm feeling stop." She sat up, gazing down at him as she reached out and laid a hand on his cheek, "You are afraid of what you are becoming." He nodded, and she sighed, climbing out of bed, "Come with me." He followed her out of the room, back down the hall, and down the corridor toward the Moonlit Mirror. She was silent for a long while before murmuring, "You spoke with Chand." It wasn't a question, but he answered, "Yes, he told me everything." She glanced over her shoulder, "You will forgive me for not revealing the truth to you. I was unsure how you would handle that particular piece of information."

Reaching the bottom, Niya raised her hand and muttered something beneath her breath. Torches flared into life around the room, spaced along the walls so that each of the pools was illuminated. He had expected to stop at the pool she had been using earlier, but she continued past the Moonlit Mirror and toward the back of the cave. Murtaugh followed her calmly, staring around at the separate pools. Some were no deeper than two feet and no more than three feet wide, with only a faint ripple to show where water bubbled up from some underground source. Others were large enough to support three or four people and so deep that he couldn't see the bottom. Staring into a particularly deep one he muttered, "Where do they come from?" She glanced around her, "They are from the same spring that created the lake above us, but it is pushed past thermal vents so when it reaches this place, it's heated and the right temperature for a bath."

She halted beside one and he stared down into it, his eyes flickering to a point deep beneath the surface where a glimmer of silver winked up at him. She pointed at it, "That necklace belonged to my mother. Retrieve it for me." He stared up at her, "Huh?" She blinked calmly, "Retrieve the necklace for me. Dive down and get it." He glanced back down at the necklace, then up at the girl. After a few moments, he stripped his shirt off, unbuckled his sword, and dove in.

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**As requested the rating as been knocked down. Thanks to everyone who responded.**


	10. Chapter 10

**I DONT OWN ERAGON OR ANY CHARACTERS  
ASSOCIATED WITH IT**

**Chapter 10**

The warm water came as no surprise, but the tingle of energy that ran down his frame startled him as he began to dive. The water somehow felt thicker than normal water, as if it was resisting his attempts to reach the bottom. The walls of the pool were jagged and uneven, and Murtagh felt his stomach lurch as he noticed the bones that littered the ridges. Urgal and human bones lay side by side, morbid reminders of others who had died in the water. He continued deeper, his eyes fixed on the silver glimmer that was coming ever closer.

Several times, he thought he heard faint voices whispering through the water. Each time this occurred, he glanced around, reassuring himself that there was no one there. Snippets of sentences reached him, though whether they were his imagination or actual voices he didn't know. "Dauthleikr . . . baen . . . fyrn" The water was oddly still and clear, more so than he had ever seen before. A sudden thrill of panic shot up his spine as alarm bells rang in his head. He felt as if clouds were closing in over his eyes, but they were not caused by his lack of oxygen.

Reaching the bottom, his fingers closed on the glimmer. Mud squelched beneath his hand as shook the object, clearing the dirt from its surface. Lifting it out of the muck, he saw the silver necklace, a sapphire pendant dangling on the end. A single word was engraved in the sapphire, Mor'ranr or peace. His lungs were beginning to burn and his legs were aching. He kicked off, trying desperately to reach the surface. The burning in his chest was increasing, more so than he thought shortness of breath should have caused. The voices had increased in volume, ringing in his ears and speaking in his own language, "Why do you attempt to protect this worthless world? You hate it, you loath everyone who inhabits it. The girl . . . she is pulling you back. She is forcing you to face decisions you are not meant to face."

The haze was covering his eyes, overwhelming his mind as he neared the surface. "You know what you must do, don't you?" the voice whispered. "Yes" the word was silent, a mere bubble issuing from his mouth. "Kill her." The voice hissed. He broke the surface, practically leaping out of the water as he gripped the edge of the pool. She had already stepped back and her blade was raised, pointed at his throat. "You see?" the voice whispered, "Already she betrays you." He snatched Zar'roc off the ground, "Traitor!" He lunged forward again and she moved with him. His blood-red blade curled toward her stomach and she blocked with her sword, leaning sideways. Adurna reached for his thigh and he leapt back, twirling in mid air to strike at Niya. She stepped forward, avoiding the blow and struck at his arm. He swept out of range, his hair swinging behind him. She ducked, slicing Adurna into the ground so that a spray of dust kicked up. Murtagh hissed as he shielded his eyes, feeling dirt pelting his face.

He turned and barely got the sword above his head in time to block her sword stroke. _She's fast! _She darted back into the cloud of dirt, escaping the blow he'd aimed at her chest. He lost sight of her again, this time she reappeared on his left, aiming for his legs. This time he sidestepped the blow and launched his own at her chest. She brought the hilt of her sword down on the blade to parry the blow. As she leapt out, she slashed at his exposed back. He stepped forward and heard the hiss of the blade behind his head. She landed a few yards away, her sword held parallel to the ground, across her chest. The band that held his hair shredded and his black locks floated down around his shoulders.

The resounding crack of metal striking metal rent the calm night as they danced in the firelight, narrowly avoiding the larger pools. Water splashed around their feet from the shallower puddles, glittering dramatically in the firelight as it leapt around them.

The nerve jarring slither of steel sliding across steel hissed as their weapons met repeatedly. At times they were yards away from each other, but at others they were so close together. Tensed bodies inches from each other, then drawn apart as the battle resumed. Despite the brutality of their intentions, the battle was unnervingly beautiful. The sight of two experienced warriors battling for the greatest prize of all was breathtaking. "Is this who you are Murtagh? Is this what your life has amounted to? A second-rate swordfighter working as an assassin for a tyrannical ruler?" Her soft voice startled him as he turned to face her. She was staring at him, like a snake would stare at a bird it was about to devour. He lunged at her, his sword spinning in his hand. She took a step back, and then thrust her sword forward. There was a sharp crack and the sword stopped the blade in mid-rotation. He slashed at her, watching Zar'roc glow blood red in the light of the flames, "I serve no one but myself!" She sneered as she turned a back flip, avoiding the dancing blade before attacking again. "You are living a lie, an illusion. You submit to him, do his bidding at the hope that he will toss you table scraps. You have given up on this world!" Anger frothed inside of him and he brought his blade hissing down toward her head. "You have no idea what I've been through. YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO QUESTION MY DECISIONS!" She sidestepped the blow, which gouged a crater in the ground near her feet. Her sword flashed toward his stomach and he barely dodged in time. "You lost your family before you could truly realize what love is. You were separated from your brother soon after you realized what a bond was. What did you ever have to lose?" she snarled, slashing at him again.

"You murder and dominate and use your life story as an excuse to kill your conscious!" Her eyes were flaming now; he could see the fire burning within their depths. Likewise his ice blue eyes were cold as steel and hard as stone. "I kill to bring in a new order, one that will unite the land in peace!" he snarled, staff missing her face by inches. She struck at his chest, "If you believe that Murtagh even I cannot save you. Think about what you've done Murtagh! Think of all the people you hurt, all the lives you tore apart! Remember the pain on their faces; you can see yourself in their eyes, can't you?" "Shut up!" he roared, lunging forward and barely missing her leg with his blade. She twirled on the spot, letting him streak past her as she brushed the blade off on her sword. "We are put through such suffering so that we might learn compassion, forgiveness, and loss. We are the guardians who are charged with protecting others from sharing the fate we did. If a killer is what you really are Murtagh, you were not worthy to survive from the beginning. If you truly are a killer, you are no better than your father."

Unable to formulate a response as blood roared through his ears, he swung his staff as hard as he could. She leapt forward to meet him and there was a deafening crack and a shockwave as the two attacks met. They landed with their backs to each other. There was a pause, then blood sprayed from a cut on her upper arm and he put a hand to where blood ran down his stomach from a cut below his chest. Her voice was low as she murmured, "I have seen behind you mask Murtagh. I know the heart you possess and I know that, buried beneath your mask, is love, compassion, and loyalty. I will save you, no matter the cost." They whirled as one and flung themselves at each other, "Murtagh, come back!" As her blade clanged against his, he threw it off and whirled, plunging his sword into her chest.

He found himself staring into a pair of shocked copper eyes. Niya's hands were wrapped around Zar'roc's blade, her fingers sliced and bleeding as she gripped the crimson sword. Time seemed suspended as Murtagh stared, horrified at what he had done. A horrible, raspy voice sounded in his ears, "You were warned Dragon Rider." Niya sank to her knees, coughing as blood trailed from her mouth, down to her chin. "No" Murtagh's agonized voice started as a whisper and quickly rose to a terrified howl, "No!" He caught her before she hit the ground, his hands shaking uncontrollably. "Niya? Niya answer me!" "M . . . Mur . . . taugh," she coughed, "you . . . you did it. You . . . came back." He laid a hand against her face, "Niya . . . I'm so sorry." She coughed, blood trickling from her mouth, "You are not . . . a monster . . . you . . . can feel . . . and that makes . . . all the difference."

He was shaking horribly. Placing his hand over her stomach, he began muttering in the ancient language. "Nothing's happening, why isn't it working?" She laid her hand weakly on his, "It's the water . . . it will not allow . . . your magic to return yet." Blood pooled beneath her, dripping into the pools around her, crimson blood on crystal clear water. His horrified eyes locked on hers, "Don't die, please don't die." She smiled faintly, "I . . . do not fear death Murtagh . . . but it is . . . is not my fate to die here." She coughed, "Bring me . . . the necklace." He glanced around wildly, finally spotting it where he had dropped it after leaping out of the pool. Rushing over, he grabbed it and skidded back to her side, shoving it into her hand.

She placed the necklace over the gaping hole in her chest. She was barely able to speak with the blood flooding her mouth, but she began to choke a soft song in the ancient language. Murtagh stared at the pendant began to glow, yet he was startled by a glow from behind him. The Moonlit Mirror was glowing as well, bright, silvery light emanating from its depths. Slowly, Niya's song grew stronger and the flow of blood lessened. Murtagh watched in awe as her chest began to heal, muscle, bone, and sinew healing itself before his eyes. As the last of her skin healed, leaving her body whole and flawless, she went limp and the necklace slipped from her grasp. It tumbled across the floor and plunked in to the Moonlit Mirror, but Murtagh only had eyes for the girl in his arms.

"Niya?" he whispered. "It's alright Murtagh." Her voice was weak, but her breathing had steadied. He pulled her close to him, burying his face in her hair. "I know it's nearly morning, but can we get some sleep?" she groaned. He gave a chuckle, more from relief than amusement, "Yes. Can you walk?" She coughed, spitting out a mouthful of blood, "You just stabbed me in the chest. Do you think I can walk?" He hoisted her up, cradling her against his chest, "It doesn't seem to have stopped your complaining." She gave a weak laugh, snuggling against his chest. _Well, you seem to have had an interesting night. _The voice of Thorn startled him and he suddenly felt his cheeks burn, _How much of that did you see? _The dragon's reply was smug, _Me? I didn't see anything. _

_Stupid lizard. _Murtagh shot back, beginning his trek up the long tunnel back to the living room. _Your mind is clearer now. _His partner commented, _Have you found the answers you sought? _Murtagh's brow furrowed, _She has endured much the same as I have. How did she learn a lesson that I did not?_ Thorn was silent for a moment before growling, _I have looked into her heart, it is much easier for a dragon than for a human mind you, she is a naturally caring person. Her heart aches for her own troubles, but the troubles of those around her often eclipses her own pain. She does not feel she has the right to wish for protection when she has the ability to protect those within her reach. Even tonight, your inner turmoil took precedence over her own. _

Murtagh stared down at the girl who had fallen asleep in his arms as they emerged into the living room. Thorn spoke to him once more, _I must go hunt. I shall stay on the opposite side of the swamp and I will only be gone momentarily. You and the girl should get some rest. _Murtagh nodded, kicking open the door and walking down the hallway to the room he had found her in. As he made to lay her on the bed, he felt a faint tug from the hand arm that had wrapped itself around his neck. "Murtagh," she whispered exhaustedly, "stay." He gave a low sigh, "Alright, I will." He slid into the bed next to her, pulling the slender body of the young girl close to him.

Thorn's words echoed in his ears, "She does not feel she has the right to wish for protection when she has the ability to protect those within her reach. Even tonight, your inner turmoil took precedence over her own." He could not think of any human more worth protection. She was beautiful, a more natural beauty than those women who flocked to the King's court. But now that he could see clearly, he saw what Thorn had always seen. Her compassion and desire to protect those around her had made her strong, but her youth and the pain that still lived within her heart made her vulnerable. "Why me?" he whispered, "Why come to me?" After a moment he heard her murmur, so soft he almost missed it, "Deep inside, you're as lonely as I am." He put an arm around her, watching as she leaned her head against him and sighed. "Sleep now Niya. You must regain your strength for tonight." He leaned back against the headboard, feeling sleep tugging at his eyelids. For once, he felt more at home than ever before, in this broken and ransacked house, with the girl curled against him and her hand over his.

He awoke at Thorn's return a few hours before sundown. The dragon came back with a full stomach, and bore in his claws a deer that he now guarded at the back of the house. Murtagh gently slid out of bed, being careful not to wake the girl as he slipped back to join his partner. They had eaten all of the stew last night and it was necessary to make a fresh pot. _How is she? _The dragon asked quietly. Murtagh sighed, beginning to skin the animal and cut the meat into strips, _She's just tired. That swordfight along with the spell she used took a lot out of her. _Thorn's eyes narrowed, _We have to get back tonight Murtagh. The King will be suspicious. _The boy nodded, throwing the ingredients in the pot and dragging it into the kitchen before placing it over the flames. _I know, but she must have the chance to complete her spell tonight. _He lifted a hand to his head, _I've never been that terrified of anything in my life. _Thorn shook his giant head, _I never realized how intense human emotions could be. You love her, don't you? _Murtagh's shoulders slumped, _Yes, but I do not know if I have the right to. My affection will only endanger her, as if she needed any other kind of target on her back. _

After a long silence the boy shook his head, _I have to stay away from her. _Thorn's rumbling laugh broke through his thoughts and Murtagh glared, _What's so funny? _Still chuckling, the dragon rumbled, _You cannot decide whether you have the right to love someone. It is my experience with humans that love just kind of happens, it is not planned for, nor is it always logical. The female decides which male she likes, and she will follow him regardless of his qualifications. _Murtagh growled faintly, glaring into the contents of the pot. Thorn's voice sounded again in his mind, _Have you not seen the way she looks at you? _Even in his reverie, Murtagh felt a flower of warmth in his chest. The dragon gave a faint sigh, _Murtagh, Galbatorix must not win this war. _Startled by the sudden declaration, Murtagh could only watch as the dragon's tail twitched, _He hunted my kind to extinction, and even now he enslaves the last of the dragons. Only Saphira remains free. If Galbatorix should triumph, everything that was once good and clean in this land will be lost. _

Murtagh moved over to the now boiling stew, ladling out two bowls. There was silence before he spoke, _Do you believe that Eragon was right in his belief that if our names changed in the ancient language, we could be freed? _Thorn's eyes glowed, _It is our only hope for freedom at this point. But until we discover how to change our names, we are bound to serve the King. _Murtagh glanced over at his partner, _Since when did you become so wise?_ The red dragon snorted, _The Ancient Silver One opened my eyes to many things I had not considered before. _The boy cocked his head to one side, _The Ancient Silver One?_ Thorn nodded, _I believe he introduced himself to you as Chand. It is much easier for him to communicate with one of his own species. _The young dragon rider rolled his eyes as he walked over to the open door, leading to the hallway, _Great so now my dragon is going to be giving me advice on relationships? _The crimson dragon looked smug, _Only when necessary, so maybe only every twenty minutes. _As Murtagh stepped into the hallway he retorted, _Yes, because Saphira was obviously smitten with you when you nearly tore her head off. _The dragon's rumble was clearly audible to where he was standing, _Yours would look just as nice mounted on the wall of my cave._ Murtagh laughed, _If it wasn't for the side effect of you dying when I kick the bucket that would be a decent plan. _

The dragon's last reply was lost as he pushed open the door to find himself almost face to face with Niya. His smile faded as he saw a look of anxiety on her face, "What's wrong?" Niya's horrified eyes gazed up at him as she whispered, "Chand just visited me in my dream. Galbatorix and his dragon are headed this way."

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Dauthleikr –mortal  
Baen – sorrow  
Fyrn – war  
Mor'ranr – peace

**Thanks again for all the great reviews. Keep them comming please and I'll try to update more regularly.**


	11. Chapter 11

**YET AGAIN I DO NOT OWN ERAGON OR ANYTHING ELSE**

**Chapter 11**

Murtagh felt his heart stop as he stared into her eyes. Thorn's voice hissed urgently in his mind, _We cannot let him find this place. _Murtagh nodded, gripping Niya's shoulders, "I'll go and head him off. I'll make up a reason for being out here." She narrowed her eyes, "Tell him you came to see if any dwarven magic still existed here. But inform him that the magic appears to be being siphoned away by the creature that lives in the heart of the swamp." When he looked puzzled she hissed, "You cannot lie to him if he orders you to tell the truth." He stared into her eyes, "And what will you do?" She gave a soft sigh, "I fear I will not be able to return here for quite some time. I will use what little time I have left to try and make the spell less dependent on me. I will meet you back at the castle." His hand tightened on her arm, "Niya." She smiled, laying a hand on his cheek, "I won't leave you Murtagh. Trust me."

Murtagh was shaking, "But how will you get back?" Niya's face clouded for a moment, but it cleared quickly, "I will get back Murtagh." He couldn't suppress a quiver of apprehension, but he knew arguing with her would be pointless. She pushed him, "Go, you must intercept him before he reaches this place." _The girl is correct Murtagh. We must go. _Thorn's voice was hissed and urgent. Nodding, Murtagh rushed to where his partner sat outside the front door. The dragon's nostrils flared as he scanned the sky warily. Niya rushed out behind him, pressing his satchel into his hand, "He will be coming from the west, so leave here and head south, the nearest ruins are there and if you approach him from that angle your story will be more credible. In there are some rare dwarf items that will back up your story." Leaning up to hug him once more, she pressed something into his hand. On a silver chain, much like the one of the necklace he had retrieved from the pool, was a diamond pendant, this time with the word Hjarta. He stared down at it and she whispered, "Wherever you go, my heart goes as well. If you find your courage failing, hang onto that and think of me." He nodded, "Be safe Niya." She smiled, "I will see you at the castle Murtagh."

Thorn's massive wings beat as he lifted them into the air. _Stay low; just skim the treetops until we get there. _The dragon took off, nearly blowing Murtagh off his back as he hurtled forward as if he were shot from a cannon. His rider crouched low over his neck, not bothering to hook his feet in as the dragon weaved through the larger trees, staying as low as possible without crashing. _Thorn you must hurry. _The dark haired boy whispered, running his hands over his dragon's scales. _Maybe you should fly and I'll ride. _The dragon growled, swerving sideways and barely missing a tree. The branches whipped Murtagh across the face as he retorted, _Nonsense, you're too heavy to carry. _The dragon suddenly snorted, _Those artifacts she gave you smell strange. They burn my nose. _Murtagh opened the satchel and barely had time to look at them before Thorn lurched, _Close the bag! Close it! _

Desperately clinging to the saddle, he barely managed to keep a hold on the satchel as he snapped it closed. _What was that? _Murtagh growled. The dragon was snorting, shooting small spurts of flame and puffs of smoke from his nostrils. _The smell of those . . . it burns my nose and chest. _Murtagh smiled as he slung the satchel over his shoulder, _Of course, something to make sure he can't track us with his dragon. _Thorn growled low in his throat, _The great black one, he is . . . strange to me. He does not speak, he does not breathe fire, he only growls when I try to talk to him. _Murtagh nodded as the dragon suddenly descended and touchdown next a pile of what looked like ancient ruins. They had slanted sideways and sunken into the swamp.

Vaulting out of the saddle, he flung his things onto the ground before dragging the saddle from Thorn's back. The dragon lifted his head, sniffing the air, _They are close but I do not believe they saw us land. _Murtagh nodded, stuffing his hand into the satchel and pulling out one of the items within. It was a small, dwarven figurine of a man with a bulls horns and the lower body of a lion. Strange runes were wrought all over the small figure. Mentally he sent a prayer of thanks to whatever god existed that Niya had thought ahead. A roar sounded over the forest and a gigantic black dragon appeared over the trees, circling the clearing once and landed near Thorn. The red dragon backed away hastily, snarling his displeasure. Murtagh put the artifact back in his satchel and strode forward to meet Galbatorix. "My King, what brings you all the way out here?"

The older man looked livid, his dark, beady eyes glittered with fury as he thundered, "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!" Murtagh bowed low, "Forgive me my King. I merely learned of the ruins in his swamp and came to see if any items of magical value could be found. All assets to your most noble cause should be explored." The King was glaring at him, his dark, beady eyes glittering with suspicion. Murtagh bowed low, dropping the bag at the King's feet, "I found these during my exploration." Shurikan shrank back, hissing his displeasure as the smell from the bag wafted over him. Galbatorix's eyes flickered to his dragon and Murtagh grunted, as if in surprise, "It had the same effect on Thorn." The King's greedy eyes glittered more brightly as he opened the bag, staring down at the figures within.

"Ah" he whispered, reaching in and pulling one out. It was another man, this time with the body of an ox and pointed cat's ears protruding from beneath exquisitely carved hair. The King's face broke into a malicious smile, "Well, well, I haven't seen one of these for years." Murtagh adopted a look of polite curiosity, "What is it my Lord?" Galbatorix didn't look up from the item, "It's called a Hel Garizla, a Hell Light. It was an anti-dragon measure the dwarves used to take; very few of them still exist." Without warning, he lobbed the figure right under the feet of his dragon. The black beast reared back, roaring and snorting as it tried to escape the fumes. Unconsciously, Murtagh touched Thorn's shoulder, feeling his red dragon quiver with anger. Galbatorix's smile widened further as he slung the satchel over his shoulder, turning back to Murtagh. "You absence will be tolerated since you have made such an intriguing contribution to my plans. However, there is another matter I wish to discuss with you."

Murtagh's sigh of relief was only audible to his dragon, but he felt his chest tighten as the King continued, "When I went to your quarters, both yesterday and earlier today, I couldn't help but notice that they were empty." Murtagh was slightly confused, "Well yes sir, as I said I was" The King cut across him, staring into Murtagh's face, "I mean they were completely empty. Your little handmaiden was nowhere to be found." An inaudible rumble filled Thorn's body as the king continued. "I am beginning to believe that she may be an operative of the Varden." Forcing himself to sound dismissive, Murtagh shrugged, "I think not, my lord. She may be a bit quirky, but I feel that her absence is of no great importance." The King surveyed him intently, as if searching his mind for something. Murtagh stared back into his eyes, focusing only on the times that Niya had indeed treated him like a servant should.

This trick of showing only memories he wanted was very difficult and he had never been able to pull it off before. However, this time it as imperative that he do so. Niya's life was now in danger and he felt that there was nothing he wouldn't be able to do to save her. The King's mouth twitched in a small smile, "Well, perhaps we should return to the castle. If she is the servant you say she is, she will be there, preparing for your arrival." Murtagh's mind was already flying for an excuse but Thorn spoke in his mind, _You cannot stall without him becoming suspicious. We must trust Niya. _Murtagh nodded to his king, walking over and retrieving the saddle from where he had tossed it. His mind was roiling with turmoil, but he kept his face carefully neutral. The King was staring at him intently. Finally snapping the last saddlebag into its place at Thorn's side, he mounted, watching the aged King do the same.

The giant black dragon took off, its wings bending even the strongest pines as it leapt into the air. Thorn followed, carefully avoiding getting too close to the black dragon. _We haven't given her nearly enough time to finish her task and return to the castle. _Murtagh moaned to his partner. _You must have faith in her, her powers stretch far beyond what you realize. _The red dragon growled as they turned in the direction of the castle and the forest began to fall away beneath them. Murtagh's eyes narrowed, _What do you mean by that? _There was a pause as the dragon seemed to ponder his answer before he murmured, _You couldn't understand the depth of magic that surrounds her home, that surrounds her. In the time I was there, I dreamed many things that were beyond my imagination, I walked the path of dreams with the silver dragon and he explained much to me. _

Murtagh's eyes narrowed as he glanced down at the dragon beneath him, _What did Chand tell you? _The dragon swerved slightly, avoiding an updraft. _Much of it I cannot reveal. However, there are many paths that have been laid out before us Murtagh. We have become a key player in these war games. Our decisions have consequences that reach far beyond what we know. _Murtagh sighed, leaning his head into the saddle in front of him as the King streaked along just ahead of them. _Then we must take care to stay on whichever side we chose. _The dragon jolted him, nearly smashing the black-haired boy's face into the red scales, _There is only one side that I will tolerate and it is the one that doesn't lead to slavery. _

They seemed to reach the castle in a matter of minutes, though Murtagh knew it must have been at least a few hours. The King evidently didn't know the way by which Niya had come and was taking care to follow the main road, which wound through the forest and cut back on itself several times. Yet when they landed in the courtyard of the palace, Murtagh wondered if he was going to be sick. The King strode purposefully across the yard, seemingly unaware of the silence that had fallen across the courtyard. Reaching the doorway, Galbatorix yanked it open and proceeded inside. _If you throw up you'll give her away. _Thorn whispered in his mind and he snapped back angrily. _I know, I know. _His stomach was turning back flips as he imagined the punishments Galbatorix would have in store for Niya when she returned. Images flashed across his sight, adding to the queasy feeling that had its stomach in its clutches. Niya beneath the white hot brands the King used on prisoners, Niya with cruel, iron spikes driven through her arms and legs, Niya screaming in agony as the King shattered her mind.

No, he wouldn't let that happen. Murtagh's hand slipped to his sword as they neared his room. He would fight here and now, he would not allow Galbatorix to harm her. The King was standing in front of his room, looking quite pleased and his hand lifted slowly to the door, as if to taunt his dark-haired disciple. Murtagh felt his chest tighten painfully as Galbatorix pushed open the door. To his amazement and relief, Niya was strolling across the room with an armful of what looked like freshly laundered clothing. As they entered, she curtsied, inclining her head to the two, "My King, what a pleasure to see you looking so well, and my lord Murtagh, I hadn't expected you back for a few more days." Galbatorix was looking rather annoyed as he glared at the girl, "And why were you not in the castle when I came to call yesterday or earlier today?" The girl's face flushed bright pink and she adopted a look of shame, "My apologies my King. I couldn't help but notice that, unlike most swordsmen, my master sharpened his own blades. My father, a swordsmen himself, always claimed that the rocks from a specific valley were the best for sharpening swords." She gestured toward a satchel placed near Murtagh's bedroom door. "In his absence I thought I would retrieve some for him."

The King looked down at the sack, striding over and kicking it. Several stones skidded out of it, rolling across the floor. The King's face was a mask of calm as he turned back to the door. "Well, I expect to see you at the Ball in a few days time." Tearing his eyes away from the girl who was busying herself folding his laundry, Murtagh blinked, "I thought you outlawed such parties my King." Galbatorix gave a small snort, "I felt it was prudent to ensure the continued loyalty of my subjects." Instantly, Murtagh saw where this was going. This party was going to be another chance for the king to show off his considerable wealth and power. At this point, however, Murtagh really couldn't have cared less about the party. Niya was safe, by some miracle; she had achieved the impossible and outstripped two dragons in flight. Bowing, the dark-haired youth murmured, "I will attend sir." The King grunted, striding past him and storming through the open door. "Keep an eye on her." He snarled as he slammed the door closed, his boots echoing as he marched down the hall.

Murtagh waited until he was sure the King had gone before rushing over and taking Niya in his arms. She seemed surprised at his show of affection, but she calmly hugged him back. "How did you get back before us?" She snuggled beneath his chin, "I'm half-elf remember? And Chand spirited me part of the way." Murtagh was shaking as he buried his face in her hair, "I was so scared . . . I thought he was going to kill you if you weren't here." She closed her eyes, "I told you I wouldn't leave you." Her legs suddenly buckled beneath her slender frame and Murtagh's grip on her tightened as his eyes darkened with worry, "Niya!" She gave a weak smile, "I am just tired. I used up a lot of magic today, enchanting the entire stretch of forest in and around my village. I then had to withstand the might of the swamp's guardian and hold my body in spirit form so Chand could get me out of the forest."

Murtagh gently helped her into his room, allowing her to lie down on the silky sheets. She sighed with gratitude, "I feel like I haven't slept in days." He nodded, lying down next to her and wrapping his arms around her waist, "I know how you feel." After a few moments of silence, Murtagh murmured, "What exactly did you to your home?" She heaved a shuddering sigh, "I allowed the spirits of the forest, at least those who were good, sanctuary within the confines of my village. They could find protection and peace there in exchange for using their energy to uphold the barriers around the edges. It was a very complex spell and I'm not sure I could do it again, word for word if I tried. I wouldn't try though, the very thought of it tires me." Murtagh kissed the back of her neck gently, breathing in her gentle scent, "It was a foolish chance. You could have died." She chuckled, "Well, if even Murtagh says it's a bad idea, it must be a really, REALLY bad idea."

He smiled, closing his eyes, "This time, can we actually get some sleep?" This time her laughter rang through the room as she giggled, "You mean without the spirits or silver dragons or any other awkward dream?" He yawned, "Yeah, something like that." His eyes opened blearily as she rolled over, pushing herself to her hands and knees. His head cocked as she slipped on top of him, leaning over to press her lips gently to his. His hands slid around her as he pulled her down on top of him, deepening the kiss as s soft moan escaped her lips. Finally removing his lips from hers, he whispered, "I'll still be here when you wake up if you want more. For now, get some rest." She nodded, laying her head on his chest as she settled her body on top of his. Murtagh's fingers gently ran through her hair, reassuring himself that she was actually there. _Thorn? _The dragon's exhausted voice answered him in more of a growling question than a word. Ignoring the grouchiness in his partner's tone, he spoke again. _We have to find some way to bring Galbatorix down. It's the only way to keep her safe. _Thorn's voice softened as he murmured, _You always knew that. You just needed a little reminder of what life outside him was like. _

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Hjarta – heart  
Hel Garizla – hell light

**Sorry for taking so long. I've been super busy lately :(  
Please Read and Review as always and thanks to those who already have**


	12. Chapter 12

**I DO NOT OWN ERAGON**

**Chapter 12**

When he next opened his eyes, the sun was rising outside his window. It took a few moments for him to fully take in the scenery before he realized that Niya was no longer in the room. Leaping out of bed, he threw the door open as he skidded into the next room, "Niya?!" The girl, who had been standing near the stove, yelped in shock as the pans she had been carrying tumbled to the floor. She whipped around, glaring at him, "What is your problem?!" He blinked a few times, feeling his heart rate slow as he scratched the back of his head, "Heh, sorry 'bout that." She rolled her eyes, "Naturally." The pots clanged again as she picked them up and placed them in the sink. "There's eggs, bacon, and fresh fruit on the counter." She called over her shoulder as she began to wash the dishes, soapy water sloshing over her elbows.

He moved over to the counter, picking up a slice of bacon and biting into it. He chewed slowly, thoughtfully, before speaking again. "Niya, I have some questions." She snorted, rinsing off one of the pans, but didn't respond. Taking this as an invitation to continue, he asked, "That pool, the one that made me attack you, what was it?" She was silent for a moment before she spoke, "That chamber is known as the Doorway of Fate. Whether it was always a fountain of magic or if some early culture enchanted the pools, I do not know, but I do know that many of them have known magic." She shifted, placing the pan she had been washing in a strainer and picking up a pot. It was another couple seconds before she continued, "The pool I was bathing in is known as the Moonlit Mirror, as I told you earlier. It is said that anyone who looks into it will see themselves exactly as they are, that it is a mirror that reflects what is on the inside, not the outside. Now the pool I pushed you into was commonly called the Shadowgate. It reveals the darkness inside anyone who dives below its surface."

Murtagh's mouth fell open, "You knew what would happen?" She shrugged, "I knew something would happen. Did I know you would attack me when you got out? No. Did I think there was a possibility? Yeah." He felt a faint pull of anger and he asked, "If I hadn't retrieved the locket, would you have died when I stabbed you?" There was a silence that seemed to stretch forever before she answered, "I do not know. I would like to think I would have pulled through, but I am not sure." He opened his mouth but she cut across him coolly, "There is no use in saying anything about it. We both survived and you conquered the darkness within you." "How can you be so sure?" She gave a loud growl of frustration before snapping, "You're here aren't you? You aren't still some battle crazed berserker. The emotions you felt when you stabbed me were stronger than your anger and hatred at the world. Only someone who contained more love and compassion than anger and hatred would have been able to shake off the effects of Shadowgate."

There was another silence before she muttered, "Did you hear them?" He blinked, picking up an apple, "Hear what?" She seemed to shiver before she whispered, "The voices." His mind traveled back to the song he had heard as he walked down the tunnel, "I heard a song . . . but it was only one voice. I assumed it was you." She shook her head, her eyes dark, "No, the voice you heard was not mine. We call her the Lady of the Pool." Murtagh walked over to where she stood, sensing the bitterness in her voice. "What's wrong?" She didn't turn to look at him as she plunged her hands into the soapy water, "I'm putting you in danger." His eyes widened as he moved to stand beside her, "Niya, I'm a dragon rider in the employ of Galbatorix. I'm doomed anyways." "But I'm a half-elf swords-woman. I'm a huge target for him. And on top of that I'm dragging you into places that harbor magic you couldn't hope to fathom." She growled. He shook his head, "I'm not exactly helpless. Besides, he doesn't know about you and you know I won't let him get to you." "THAT'S THE PROBLEM ISN'T IT?! YOU HAVE TO PROTECT ME!" She cried, but her words were punctuated by a squeal as she jerked her hand out of the water, spattering him with blood and water.

The palm of her hand had been laid open by the knife she had been gripping. She swore beneath her breath, holding her hand away from her as she looked around for a towel. Calmly, he caught her hand, laying his over the spot where blood welled from her torn flesh and murmured a few words in the ancient language. The skin sealed itself magically and she jerked her hand back, muttering her thanks. "Hey, if you can use magic, why don't you?" She stared at him for a few moments, and when he continued to look puzzled she rolled her eyes, "I am in the castle of the strongest Dragon Rider ever, and am in the room of his servant. I don't know the extent of his powers, but he may have found a way to detect magic. I don't want to alert him." _How is it that she always thinks things out three steps ahead of you? _The voice of his partner startled him slightly and he growled, _Good morning to you too. _Niya had returned to washing the dishes and her cheeks were a bright, flushed shade of pink.

_I'm not human and I'm quite glad for that, but shouldn't you say something here? Comfort her? _Murtagh shook his head, _Not now I don't think. _His partner's curiosity pricked him like a needle as the dragon spoke, _Why not? _The black-haired youth took another bite of food, trying to word his response as carefully as possible. _It just doesn't seem right. She is aware of her own strength, particularly after the complex bit of magic she just pulled off there. No, there is something else troubling her. I won't intrude upon her mind yet, she needs time to think. It would be rude to try and advise her on a matter I know nothing about. There's a better chance of my hurting her by stabbing blindly into an unknown problem than actually helping, and I have no interest in causing her any more pain than she has already experienced._ There was a long pause before Thorn chuckled, _Compassion Murtagh? How very unlike you. _The dragon rider responded indignantly, _I'm not an Urgal. I have a heart too. _The dragon's amusement was clearly etched into his voice, _Is this the change that finding a mate brings in human males? Curious. _Murtagh's annoyance faded in a sudden flash of embarrassment. Prompted by the sudden burning in his cheeks and ears he snapped, _She isn't my mate. _The dragon's laugh echoed in his mind as Thorn spoke. _You forget Murtagh, I can see your dreams as clearly as you can, even those I do not wish to see. _

Murtagh threw himself down on the couch, nearly fuming with rage. Yet when his partner spoke again, the red dragon sounded more curious than amused, _Is the drive to mate with someone of your species really so strong that a monogamously based creature would take multiple mates? _The young dragon rider hesitated before answering, _For humans, mating is more of a pleasure than an actual means of reproducing. It leads many to mate with more than one partner._ Thorn's response was quick, _Even you? _Murtagh sighed, _Yes, even I have strayed down that path. _There was a long silence before the dragon spoke again, this time with a faint tinge of bitterness in his voice, _You humans take your mates for granted. You are meant to mate for life, and you are one of the few animals that do so. Yet you squander your passion and loyalty on many instead of reserving it for the one for whom you are destined. _Without thinking Murtagh snapped back, guilt coloring his pale cheeks, _Dragons do not mate for life. One male may service several females in his lifetime, so who are you to chide humans? _Thorn's voice was flat and full of pain as he snarled, _You know as well as I that there is only one female dragon in existence and that is Saphira, my enemy. Yet if she were destined to be my mate, I would stay by her side, not by nature, but by choice. We dragons do not mate for life, it is true, yet should I be left with Saphira, the last two dragons, we would remain together forever. Being the only two of your species left, except for the dark one who bears the king, you cannot understand the loneliness that brings. Even as my enemy, I admire her, I rejoice in her existence, hoping that, perhaps, through some twist of fate, she may become my mate._

The dragon did not sound angry, only regretful and there was a strange note in his voice, a wistful longing that tore at Murtagh's heart like a knife. They lapsed into a long silence, broken only by the synchronized beating of their hearts. Finally the dragon broke the silence yet again, _I am fascinated by your emotions toward her. I often wonder if dragons have "true mates" that they are destined for. _Murtagh closed his eyes, _Do you want to have a "true mate?" _Thorn's response was slow and deliberate, _Well, your feelings toward Niya are . . . intense. I would like to feel that way for one of my own species. _The black-haired boy chuckled, _It is not easy at times. Well . . . you know how it feels. _"Murtagh?" He opened his eyes to find Niya standing over him. Her dark eyes probed his face for a moment before she said, "A page just came from the tailor. They need you to go so they can make your suit for the Ball." He gave a low grumble in his throat, he hated being attending these types of ceremonies. Not only did it give the false impression that he agreed with that the king was doing, but it also allowed the king to parade him around like some prize bull being led about by a nose ring.

Soap suds coated her arms, despite the towel she was drying them off with. Staring at the frothy bubbles, he was transported back to another time, when the dark skinned girl bathed in a pool of starlight while a soft voice sang to the tune of falling water. His eyes widened as he murmured, "Niya . . . the song the Lady of the Pool was singing . . . what was it about?" She closed her eyes for a moment, and when they opened, he saw a tinge of anxiety in them. "It is a song we call Du Blödh Wyrda, The Blood Fate. It is a song about a warrior descended from a line of powerful warriors. The warrior was strong in their own right, more powerful than any who had come before. But when their family needed them most, they vanished into the night, resulting in the near destruction of their bloodline. For this, the fates determined that misfortune and destruction should hound the warrior's footsteps until they discovered their destiny. Wherever the young warrior went, people cast them out, called them a bringer of evil. The warrior was doomed to wander far from those they loved, searching for their destiny." Her gaze dropped to the floor and she whispered, "It has been foretold that the warrior will come of my bloodline." Understanding dawned in Murtagh's face as he whispered, "You . . . believe that you are that warrior." The young girl sighed, "I have failed me clan, vanished into the night when their need was most dire. I fit the description."

Murtagh shook his head, concern showing in his bright eyes as he whispered, "You saved my life when those shadow spirits attacked. You stayed with me even when I was put under that spell. And there you even had the strength to outwit Galbatorix, one of the most powerful magic users of all time, and you still had the power to alter a hundred year old spell on your homeland." She raised her eyes to his, pain etched in her gaze, "But what if, in the end, I just end up hurting you too? What if I am the one and I'm destined to bring destruction to everyone I come in contact with?" The dark-haired boy strode over to her, putting his arms around her, "Niya, you saved my life. You saved me from my own destruction." After a few moments she heaved a long breath, "I guess you should go get fitted for your suit." He nodded, "Yeah, I should."

She nodded a few times, "I guess I'll do some laundry or something while you're gone." He chuckled, laying a gentle kiss on her forehead, "Niya, when I come back, you'll still be here right?" She closed her eyes, laying her head against his shoulder, "As long as you want me too, I'll stay." Murtagh released her, striding over to the door, "I will return within the next two hours. Try not to wander too far." She nodded, turning her back and walking back over toward the sink. As the dark-haired boy closed the door behind him, Chand's words echoed in his mind, "Her destiny is far greater than even she can imagine. A greater power is seeking for her, wants her for its own. She must be kept safe!" _Do not be afraid. Her word is good. _Thorn whispered in his mind. Murtagh shook his head, turning to walk off down the hall. _It is not her word I doubt, but her resolve to save the both of us. It may lead her to do something reckless. _Even the crimson dragon had no answer for this, and the two of the lapsed into silence, each lost in his own thoughts.

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Du blödh wyrda – The Blood Fate

**YEAH, SORRY THIS IS SUPER LATE. SCHOOL HAS STARTED BACK UP AND  
I'M TOTALLY BOOKED. READ AND REVIEW AS ALWAYS**


	13. Chapter 13

**I DO NOT OWN ERAGON OR ANYTHING**

**Chapter 13**

The next few days went by in a blur of preparations. As usual, when Galbatorix did something, he went for the whole hog and within the next three days, the entire castle had been outfitted with several splendid sculptures and bards traipsed through the village, singing their songs for the common-folk, who gathered around the fire, whispering of the grandeur of the ball the King was planning. Indeed Murtagh saw very little of Niya, as the young girl busied herself about the castle, aiding in the cleaning while Murtagh was sent on increasingly meaningless missions to ensure that Galbatorix's domain was secure enough for the King to indulge in such trivial matters as parties. The growing insignificance of such tasks was beginning to wear on Murtagh's nerves and Thorn's oblique comments as to his frustration stemming from his lack of contact with Niya definitely weren't helping.

Though when they were together, Niya teased him about his having to attend the ball, he could sense a sadness that was hidden beneath her mask of contentment. It wasn't until the evening before the ball that he spoke to Thorn about Niya's obvious unhappiness. The girl had been gone all day, helping the other servants with last-minute preparations and when Murtagh had finally returned to his quarters, he had found Adurna missing and his dinner waiting for him on the table.

_She's been restless lately. She keeps taking Adurna out and she comes in late. _He confided in his partner. _She's like a wild animal._ The dragon growled, _She's used to roaming and being completely free. Now she's confined to a cage, a self-imposed one albeit, but a cage nonetheless. _After a short pause the dragon spoke again, _Had you considered asking her to go to the ball with you?_ Murtagh's eyebrows raised in surprise, _No, actually I hadn't. I didn't think she'd want to go. _He could almost see his partner's eyes rolling as the red dragon groaned, _Yet again Murtagh proves that the stereotypical incompetence of the human male is not an exaggerated one._His cheeks still burning from his partner's jibe, Murtagh looked up as the front door opened and Niya walked in, a bundle in her arms that was dripping mud onto the floor.

He got up to greet her, waiting as she dropped her load in the laundry basket by the door and returning Adurna to her room. As she emerged, he stepped up behind her, slipping her arms around his waist. For a moment he shivered, her clothes were damp and cold, as if she had been out in the icy, driving rain that had been drenching the castle and surrounding country for the last day and a half. She chuckled, putting her hands over his as she leaned back against his chest, "Yes?"

"Niya, I was kind of wondering. It's going to be awfully boring tomorrow night at the party with all those puffed-up, over-powdered ladies in waiting cavorting around like lame ducks." "What do you want Murtagh?" she cut across him in a flat tone. He looked down at her, slightly miffed, "Huh?" A devilish grin was stealing across her face as she giggled, "You only use big words when you want something." Adopting a rather indignant expression, he leaned into her ear and spoke again, "I was just wondering if perhaps you'd like to come to the ball with me. I'd make things a lot more fun." She raised an eyebrow, "Yes, I'd hate for you to be bored Murtagh."

"Anyways," he continued, "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind going to the ball with me." He felt her stiffen and for a moment he was quite pleased that, for the first time, he had managed to surprise her. "Murtagh . . . um . . . I don't know . . . I don't even have a dress to wear." She stammered and he watched as her face turned bright pink. The dark-haired boy smiled, "Just go see Sari in the tailors shop. Tell her I sent you and that you need a dress by tomorrow evening." The girl's face was still rather pink, but she looked pleased, "Well, I guess that would be alright." She smiled at him, turning in his arms and flinging her own arms around him. Murtagh was surprised, but happily twirled her around, easily lifting her slender frame off the ground.

After a moment, he lowered her to the ground, staring into his brown eyes, "Niya, are you happy here?" She suddenly looked puzzled, "What? Of course, I mean you're here." He brushed a stray strand of hair from her face as he murmured, "You've been . . . distracted lately." Her expression cleared and a look of unusual gentleness touched her eyes, "Oh Murtagh, you thought I was thinking of leaving?" The dark-eyed dragon rider felt guilty for a moment, but sheepishly muttered, "Yeah." She chuckled, "No, I told you I wouldn't Murtagh. I've just been really busy." He cocked his head to one side, "Doing what?" She glanced toward the door before murmuring, "I'm trying to find a way to contact Eragon. If he has any ideas about how we can get you out from under Galbatorix's control, then it's imperative that we speak with him."

For a split second, Murtagh was caught completely off-guard. Finally finding his voice he asked, "Well? Have you found anything?" Her eyes narrowed, "I've confirmed the location of the Varden, as if that was any secret, the real trick is confirming where Eragon is. I know a few people who are rumored to be linked to the Varden, the problem is getting them to talk around here." He sighed, shaking his head, "Just be careful Niya. You know how dangerous this is." She rolled her eyes, "So you can go around riding a two thousand pound, fire-breathing lizard and fighting armies by yourself and I can't do a little bit of interrogation." _What is it with you people and calling me a lizard?!_Thorn rumbled furiously and Murtagh couldn't suppress a laugh before responding. _I'm pretty sure that I could come up with something better._

Niya eyes him curiously but he shook his head, "You should go find Sari. You'll need to get fitted for that dress." She still looked a bit suspicious at his sudden outburst of mirth, but she shrugged, "I'll go clean up and then head out. It might look a little suspicious if I came out and I was all sweaty." Murtagh's cheeks went red at her words and she grinned evilly. _Okay, you do realize I can see everything you're thinking right? _Thorn commented innocently, chuckling as Murtagh closed off his connection with his partner. The girl disappeared into her room, closing the door behind her as Murtagh strode over to the laundry basket, pulling out the bundle she had dropped into it. Her cloak was still slick with mud, but now that he looked more closely, there was a lot of stitching on the inside, as if several huge gashes had been sewn up. Spreading the wet cloak on the cold, stone floor, Murtagh noticed several new gashes, cleanly ripped through the tough material.

As his eyes narrowed, he contacted Thorn, _What do you make of this? _The dragon's consciousness touched his mind and he knew Thorn was looking through his eyes as the dragon rumbled, _Sword slashes, or knife cuts at the very least. _A tinge of fear touched Murtagh's heart, _That's what I thought. This means that either she fought someone . . . Or someone attacked her. _The dragon finished for him. Looking near the sleeves, his stomach gave an unpleasant lurch as he noticed several dark stains. _Blood. _The dragon hissed, confirming what Murtagh already suspected. The boy shook his head as his black hair fell into his eyes, _She was wearing short sleeves, there wasn't a mark on her arms. _He felt his partner's concern as the dragon rumbled, _Which means that the blood probably isn't hers. _

There was a long silence before Murtagh growled, _Could you follow her scent? _

Thorn scoffed, _In this rain? I'd be lucky to track it out of the castle boundaries, let alone through the city where hundreds of other people have been tramping about. Besides, she probably suspects you might follow her. It wouldn't surprise me if she doubled back or made quite a few detours. _

When Murtagh didn't respond, his dragon sighed, _Murtagh, you're going to have to trust her. She's a good soul, as far as you humans go. She wouldn't harm anyone unless it was absolutely necessary. _Murtagh folded up the cloak, tossing it back into the hamper as he snarled, _She's putting herself in danger because of me. _The dragon chuckled, _If I may remind you, she came into this castle as a spy without any back-up and no way of getting out if things got messy. She's also a half-elf magic-wielder who can use a sword better than Galbatorix can use that forked tongue of his. She'll be alright. _

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation, and throwing it open, Murtagh found himself face to face with a small servant girl. "My Lord, the King requests your presence in his royal chamber immediately." She looked terrified, the poor child was trembling head to toe. Murtagh nodded to her, striding calmly past her and out of the room. She trailed along at his side, her eyes wide with fear. "What is your name little one?" Murtagh asked, not taking his eyes from the corridor ahead of him. "L . . . Liza my lord." Glancing sideways for a heartbeat he murmured, "How old are you Liza? You don't look old enough to be working in a place like this." The girl shook her head, "I am 13 my lord. My mother, Lauren, used to work for the King as a page, but she has recently taken ill. The King threatened to imprison her if she didn't come to work, but I was allowed to come in her place."

Reaching the King's chamber, Murtagh pushed open the giant doors and strode inside, his footsteps echoing in the silent hall. At the far end, the King stood, his back to them and his eyes fixed on a map of Alagaësia. As Murtagh entered, the King glanced over his shoulder before returning his gaze to the map. "Leave us." The older man growled to the young girl, who curtsied and departed quickly. Murtagh was left, waiting for the King to speak. After a few minutes of silence, Galbatorix spoke, "Murtagh, look at this map. What do you see?"

It was such an odd question that Murtagh was momentarily stunned, but recovering quickly he shrugged, "A map of your kingdom, my lord." "WRONG!" the King roared, slamming his fist into the map and punching a hole through the center. "I see a Kingdom that is divided, torn between my realm and the realm of scum." He tapped a far corner of the map, "For too long I have allowed the rats to survive at the edges of my territory. They have bred like cockroaches beneath a rock, like vile insects that have now returned to infest my land." When the King turned to Murtagh, the young man saw a wild, manic glow in the eyes of the older man. "Deep in the forest to the north lies _Ellesméra, where the elves prance in the twilight of their once, great home. They will lend their help to the Varden eventually." _

_A sudden smile touched the King's mouth as he asked, "Tell me Murtagh, what is the easiest way to prevent this alliance?" "To eradicate the Varden before the two join forces." Murtagh said calmly. The King's smile widened, "Precisely. You are stronger than Eragon and his dragon, but I believe that it is time to remind the Varden why it is they reside at the outskirts of my kingdom." Murtagh's eyes widened as he suddenly realized what was coming. The King chuckled, "I will join the battle. I will water the fields with the blood of the Varden and crush their resistance back to its roots. I shall retake Surda, where the people are foolish enough to side with my enemies, and once the who of the human race is mine, I will move on the elves and drive them from their forests with a hail of fire!"_

_Pure terror seized Murtagh as his dream rushed back to him in all his fury, the death of his friends, the destruction of the land, and, most importantly, the body of the young girl lying before him. His mind racing Murtagh spoke, "My King, I believe that a move now would be . . . hasty." The King's eyes lit with a flame of suspicion and the young man spoke quickly, "Eragon grows in strength every day and I do not wish to see him oppose you. I believe that we should try, at least once more, to gain control of him and his dragon. Saphira is, after all, the only female dragon in existence." Galbatorix seemed to consider his words for a moment before growling, "What do you suggest?"_

_"Allow me to lead a force against the Varden. Eragon will come to me and perhaps I will be able to bring him before you. If not, I can take a force to the south, toward Surda, and cut off the Varden's supplies where they will be hurt the most. Then, when they are weakened, you can come and crush the last of them easily. I would, however, suggest delaying this assault until next spring. Then the people will be weak from the cold and lack of food." There was a long silence before Galbatorix spoke. He was chuckling, a harsh, malicious sound that echoed off the walls of his hall. "How very like your father you are Murtagh. Yes, I like your proposition." Murtagh let out a soft, sigh of relief. The King continued, "It is no secret that to bring back the Dragon Riders, I will need a female dragon and with no one appearing to claim the final egg, Saphira remains my only option. Yes, now leave me. I have much to prepare before the ball tomorrow." _

_He turned his back, a clear dismissal, and Murtagh didn't need to be told twice. Retreating as quickly as possible, he closed the doors behind him and leaned against the wall for a moment to catch his breath. ____You spoke well for such a bad situation. __Thorn growled, but he sounded worried. Murtagh shook his head, still unable to think clearly through the haze of terror that had suddenly descended around his mind. ____Murtagh calm down. You did the best you could and got out of a very sticky situation. __The dark-haired boy pushed himself off the wall, moving quickly back through the corridor. ____I managed to buy us some time. Now we just have to figure out how to get out of this mess. _

_*************_

**Forgive me for taking to so long. School is killer  
As always read and review **


	14. Chapter 14

**I DO NOT OWN ERAGON OR ANYTHING RELATED  
TO IT EXCEPT THIS STORY**

**Chapter 14**

The next day arrived in a flurry of final preparations. The cooks were hurriedly making food and the last few touched of decoration were added. By the time night fell, Murtagh was quite ready to be done with the whole thing. He had been kept out and about all day and returned to his room with barely enough time to wash and change into his dress clothes. As he rushed out of his room, buttoning up his shirt, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He was wearing a silky shirt that matched his blue eyes and a pair of well made pants with a clip on the hip for Zarroc. A pair of new hunting boots completed the outfit and, with a pang of revulsion, he felt as if he were being dressed to play the hero in one of those old timey plays. Try as he might, however, his black hair refused to obey his will and hung, haphazardly into his eyes.

_You'll have to forgive me, but the finer points of human fashion are beyond me. Is that what is considered stylish? _The amused voice of his partner spoke in his mind and Murtagh rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "This is ridiculous." _This party may be good. It will clear your head. _The dark-haired boy sighed, staring at his reflection in the mirror. It was true, since his conversation with the King, his mind had been in a state of turmoil, trying to figure out some way to halt the invasion which was now looming on the horizon. Niya had been absent the entire day, and a scan of her room told him that Adurna had been left in its usual hiding place with an illusion spell placed around it. As much as this comforted him, he didn't like the idea of her sneaking around the castle without her sword.

_Worrying about her won't make her any safer. She's a half-elf magic wielder, there are only a few beings in the world who could overpower her. _Murtagh shook his head, "The only problem is that the most dangerous of those beings resides in this castle." He strode back out into the sitting room, grabbing Zarroc and clipping it onto his belt. Exiting the room, he quickly locked the door and moved off through the castle. All around him, servants scrambled back and forth, carrying last minute decorations. Flowers and antique swords as well as freshly painted pictures adorned the hallways and the carpets had been cleaned and were now a crisp, clean shade of pale gold. _The King doesn't do anything half way does he? _"This is his chance to show off his wealth and power." Murtagh snorted, descending a steep staircase which was lit by sweet-scented torches. "Things like this are what keep his people loyal and paying their taxes. He can show off his 'generosity' and his military might in one go."

As he emerged into the main hall, the sounds of merriment met his ears. Pushing open the massive doors at the opposite end, he was nearly blasted backward by the wave of scents and sounds that washed over him. The hall was packed with people. Men in their best suits stood in group, some with women on their arms, others taking turns exchanging glances with the various women who sat at the tables. Even as he entered, he felt a tug on his arm and turned to find a rather fat, rather ugly woman standing beside him. Her face was powdered white with the exception of the pink blush on her cheeks and over her eyes. "Why my lord Murtagh, how wonderful to see you." Her voice was high pitched and made his skin crawl. Forcing himself to smile, he bowed low, "Good evening ma'am." She giggled childishly, "I wonder, if I may, will you dance with me?"

Trying to ignore his dragon's laughter, which was roaring in his ears, Murtagh racked his brain for an excuse. "Go on Murtagh, dance with her." The voice of the King broke through his thought and Murtagh turned. The older man was strolling through the crowd toward him, seeming not to notice how the people cowered in his presence. He was holding a glass of wine easily in one hand, but his face was covered in a customary smirk. Reaching his pupil, he clasped the young man on the shoulder, nodding toward the woman. For a few moments their eyes locked. Galbatorix's eyes narrowed faintly as his hand tightened on his apprentice's shoulder. Snarling faintly to himself, Murtagh nodded, stepping forward and taking the woman by the hand. She giggled again, bouncing along after him as he led her onto the floor.

The musicians were sitting off to one side of the room and as he approached the dance floor, the dark-haired youth heard them start off a soft waltz. Groaning Murtagh placed his arms around the woman, forcibly reminded of how thick she was. His arms pressed into her until he thought they would sink into the rolls of flesh and fabric and be lost forever. The woman smiled up at him with half-lidded eyes, her stubby hands fastening onto his shoulders. She smelled as if she had showered in perfume, and the scent was overwhelming. All around the room, the women were smiling seductively at him, winking in flirtatious fashion.

_Murtagh. _His eyes widened as his partner called through their mental link. _I have a message from Niya. _"She can contact you?" He called back, slightly surprised. _Apparently she can. It must be an elvish trait._ "What did she want?" Mental pictures flooded his mind as Thorn relayed the message. _She wishes to know if there is a token from you that Eragon would recognize if he saw it. She needs something that would convince him that the message is from you. _The young man's eyebrows furrowed, "Why would she need that?" _She will not say. Only that it is of the utmost importance._Murtagh's mind raced as he mentally went through his room. The token had to be small, something that would only have significance to him and Eragon, but wouldn't be suspicious if picked up by any of the King's men.

He was suddenly transported back to the middle of a forest. He was leaned against a fallen log, listening to the babbling of the stream a few meters in front of him. The silence of the night was broken only by the crackling of the fire and soft rasp of stone on steel. In his right hand he held a small, throwing knife and in his left, an equally small sharpening stone. To his left, Eragon was sitting with Saphira's muzzle pressed against his thigh. The sandy-haired boy glanced over at his companion, "Can I see that?" For a few moments, Murtagh hesitated, then handed the knife to his companion, feeling the dull blade in his fingers as he passed the weapon handle first. Eragon had taken it, examining it with what interest. Finally passing it back the young man spoke, "Nice knife. Where did you get it?" "My master." "I've never seen a knife like it." Murtagh had glanced back down, his eyes drinking in the familiar weapon. It had a leaf shaped blade with a wider tip than base as well as a surprisingly heavy handle for such a small weapon. "It was my master's design. The weight on the tip and base made it much easier to throw and control."

Returning to the present in time to bow to the woman as she flounced off, Murtagh contacted his partner. _Tell her to grab the knife from my boot. The throwing one, you know the one. _Thorn sent back a confirmation as his touch withdrew from his partner's mind. Murtagh felt relief surge through him, combined with a faint touch of doubt. What could Niya possibly want something like that? _She apologizes for the secrecy, but asked me to remind you that you are still the servant of the king. _Murtagh felt a twinge of pain, "What does she think I'd try to stop her or turn her in?" _Not at all, she refers to the fact that you would be forced to tell the King everything he needs to know if he asked. She believes you will be safer if you are clueless as to her plans. I told her you shouldn't have any trouble with that_. Ignoring his partner's jibe, he strode over to the refreshment table, grabbing his own goblet of wine and downing it in a few swallows. The bitter-sweet taste comforted him, slowing his heartbeat as he sat down in a chair.

_She moves like a shadow . . . I've never seen movement like it. _Looking into his partners mind, he caught an image of a dark blur slipping down the corridor. He found that it was much easier to look for twitches of motion than an actual figure. It was the only way that she was visible. A puff of dust rose from beneath her boot and curtain flickered as she brushed past it. _I will admit she is quite an impressive catch. _Murtagh chuckled to himself, "I don't know about catch. If anything she caught me." His partner gave a low rumble, _She is a true warrior, a credit to your human race. _"She's not completely human." _An elvish heritage would be worth nothing had she not the heart and mind that she has shown thus far. You humans are, if nothing else, annoyingly resilient and persistent. _"I'm going to assume that was supposed to be a compliment. Either way, I thought you didn't like her."

_I didn't know her. _"Meaning that you were wrong about her." _I was merely being careful. Since when has suspicion been a crime?_Smiling to himself as he took another drink, Murtagh responded. "I should have listened to you though. Given everything we now know, she could have been a huge threat to us had she not been on our side." Surprise radiated through the link between him and his partner and he heard a twinge of humor in his dragon's voice. _I think you may have had a bit much to drink. _"Huh?" _You've never admitted you were wrong before . . . despite your numerous chances to do so. _"It's no surprise dragons are not known for their wit." _Nor humans for their intelligence, it's a good thing you're not good eating. _The idle banter had put him in a much better mood and as he looked around, Murtagh felt his initial nervousness beginning to ease.

The King was on the other side of the hall, surrounded by a group of women. He had a false smile plastered on his lined face, but was making a convincing show of good humor and charisma. Couples packed the dance floor while other guests indulged in the rather large buffet prepared by the castle chefs. He couldn't help but notice the group of women who were gathering in a circle around him, each shooting sly glanced out of the corner of their eyes. He was forcibly reminded of a pack of wolves closing in on a deer and his free hand instinctively flexed toward his sword. Suddenly he saw a flicker out of the corner of his eye and a hidden door opened out of the seemingly solid wall. A few inches of blackness were visible and, a moment later, Niya materialized out of the blackness. She glanced around warily before closing the door and stepping out into the open.

Murtagh felt his jaw drop and his entire body stiffened as he stared at the young woman. A smile touched her face as her eyes met his, complementing the blush in her cheeks. His heart began to race as he stood, frozen in the midst of a crowd of women. He saw her hastily glance down at her clothes, hastily smoothing out the wrinkles. She was wearing a long, black dress that showcased her dark hair and eyes. A silver broach hung between her breasts and the material hugged her curves. The necklace that had belonged to her mother adorned her neck and a silver eagle feather hung from her hair. She was standing in the shadow of one of the massive pillars and he could see the nervousness in her gaze. He couldn't help but smile broadly, for all her power and skill, she was unnerved by this crowd.

His mind had gone effectively blank. She looked like the picture of perfection, her vaguely elvish features only enhancing her beauty. He watched her cheeks flush as she looked at him and wondered vaguely what she could be blushing for, he couldn't imagine anyone who needed to be embarrassed less than her. Reaching her, he slipped his hand into her, lacing his fingers with hers. "You look great." He whispered in her ear, feeling her hand twitch in his. She blushed with embarrassment and she mumbled her thanks. After a moment she muttered, "This was a terrible idea." He shook his head and stared at her, "What? Scared of a few people?" She raised an eyebrow, "And I'm to assume you're trembling from excitement?"

He smiled as he slid his arm around her waist, pulling her closer, "I feel a lot better now." She laughed and blushed again. For moment, he was tempted to pull her out onto the dance floor, then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Galbatorix approaching the dance floor. Despite the smile on his face, Murtagh could see the disgust in the older man's eyes as he walked, arm in arm with a beautiful blond woman whom Murtagh recognized as the leader of one of the nearby communities. Deciding that it would probably be better to keep Niya out of the King's eye, he squeezed her hand, he led her back into the crowd. She followed, her brow furrowing quizzically. Murtagh waved through the crowd, ignoring the curious stares that he and Niya were receiving as he emerged from the throng of people.

He suddenly felt foolish for asking her to come. Bringing her here would surely warn the King that their relationship was, perhaps, far more than a lord and his servant. "Murtagh?" He turned to find Niya looking at him, her dark eyes questioning. "I shouldn't have brought you. I have to get you out of here before the King sees you." A smile touched her face as she laid a hand on his arm, "It's okay. I . . ." "Lord Murtagh, I'm glad to see you looking so well." He jumped, his hand slipping to the hilt of his sword as he whirled around. Instinctively, he grabbed Niya around the waist, attempting to push her behind him. A moment later, he found himself face to face with a golden haired man in a forest-green hunting outfit. A red-haired woman hung on his arm, her shimmering emerald eyes looking daggers at Niya, who had resisted his attempt to thrust her behind him and had adopted a sweet, winning smile.

Recovering himself, Murtagh extended a hand as he found his own smile, "Thelon, your kindness if much appreciated." Thelon was a horse breeder from the town of Bullridge, which lay on the banks of the Ramr River. His stock were well known to be some of the best in Alagaësia. He was one of the few rulers whom Murtagh cared to associate with. He was a tough ruler, but he realized that the only way his town would flourish was if the people within it also flourished. The standard of living under him was considerably greater than it had been under his father and in other townships across the country. He was a man of good humor and quick wit, but his downfall was his loyalty to Glabatorix. He was a rigid military man, one who followed his leader's orders without question, despite any personal qualms he may have had with them.

The man's eyebrows raised, "What's this? No clever jest?" Usually Murtagh could count on a verbal war of jests and jibes with the horse-master. At the moment, however, Murtagh only cared about ending this conversation as soon as possible. It was, therefore, quite appalling to him as Niya stepped forward, extending a hand, "You must be Thelon of Bullridge." When the man nodded, taking her hand, her smile widened. "It's an honor to make your acquaintance sir, as a horse lover, I must say that I admire your breeding operation beyond all others." The man's smile grew wider as he laughed, "Well, we do what we can to improve the breed."

Within seconds they had launched into a full-fledged conversation on desired traits and which breeds should be crossed in an attempt to create the best all around horse. Murtagh felt distinctly uneasy. His attempt at getting Niya out before she was noticed had failed utterly. The flashing smiles Thelon kept flashing at Niya were beginning to annoy him and a glance sideways told him that Thelon's wife shared his sentiments. Stepping forward, she pointedly placed herself between her husband and the other girl, exclaiming, "My I love your hair! How do you get such a brilliant golden color?" Murtagh froze midway through his attempt to put an arm around Niya's waist. He cast a glance at her dark hair, confusion washing over him for a moment. Niya reached up, running hand through it as she giggled, "I'm just lucky. It's always been like this, thought I find that using a leaf extract really brings out the shine."

The woman nodded, her false smile showing that she really wasn't all that concerned with Niya's choice of hair-care products. Taking her husband's arm she smiled sweetly at him, "Come love, I do love this song." He nodded his assent, taking Niya's hand once more and bowing to Murtagh before being led off. Niya turned back to Murtagh, "I was going to tell you, I figured it would be wise to make sure I didn't look like myself." He blinked at her for a long moment, "You don't look any different to me." She laughed as she patted his chest, "That's because you're probably still wearing the pendant I gave you, or at least carrying it." His hand lowered to his pocket and he fingered the pendant as understanding broken over him. "It's enchanted?" She rolled her eyes, "Have you seen anything from the Twilight Valley that isn't enchanted?"

Feeling distinctly foolish, he looked around, checking to make sure no one else was approaching them. As he turned his gaze back to her, he found her staring rather sympathetically at him. "Would you care to go for a little trip, Murtagh?" He blinked a few times, "Right now?" She nodded, "Yes, right now. I fear we may have to enlist the help of your dragon though." He simply stared at her, not completely comprehending what she was saying. "We're in the middle of a feast?" She raised an eyebrow, "And you would rather stay at the King's feast than go somewhere with me?" "Well no but . . . I just mean that we . . . I have to" Stammering in his attempt to create a comprehensible answer, he finally gave up the argument with a shake of his head. She smiled happily, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the side door, "Come on then, there's something I want to show you."

**Again I apologize for the ridiculously long wait. I'm trying to get this story finished before I head back to school. Please read and review as always and thank you for your patience.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

He didn't speak on their short walk through the palace. The dim lighting of the passageways seemed almost pitch black to him after the brilliance of the banquet hall. Her footsteps, however were confident, though she did laugh as he stumbled on a few of the steps and tripped over a few of the rugs he was unable to see. He felt as though he was living a scene from a play. The beautiful girl was running, frequently turning back to him with a huge smile on her face. She giggled, closing the gap between them and kissing him, dancing away before he could grab her. He had never seen her quite so playful. As they passed a pillar, she leaned down, retrieving a bag which had been laying in the shadows. Reaching into it, she pulled out a parcel wrapped in black before tossing the bag to him.

He caught it, staring at her blankly as she smiled again. "Your clothes are in there, put them on." He raised an eyebrow and she rolled her eyes, "You didn't expect us to ride dragonback in these did you?" He couldn't stop a small smile from gracing his face. _She had this planned._ She had slipped back into a dark corner just out of his sight, a fact which slightly disappointed him. Opening the bag, he found a set of his hunting gear complete with a pair of boots. He quickly slipped out of his dress clothes, relishing the familiar feel of his old gear as she strapped Zarroc back onto his waist. Walking down the hall, his eyes roved the darkness, looking for the young girl. She seemed to materialize out of the shadows, her dress replaced by a pair of breeches and a tight green shirt. Her black cloak was slung around her shoulders and she wore a pair of worn hunting boots as well.

She nodded to him, this time moving off more slowly as they reentered the better populated part of the castle. After dodging a few servants, each hustling along, oblivious to the two young warriors, they finally reached their destination. She twitched back a heavily adorned tapestry to reveal an old, wooden door with a brass handle. As she pulled it open, slipping outside, he finally asked the question which had been building in his chest, "Where are we going?" She turned, that smile still on her face and kissed him again, "Just call Thorn." Sighing, Murtagh contacted the red dragon and, within moments, the massive creature was landing on the lawn in front of them.

Niya bowed low, as she always did in the presence of the dragon and then spoke aloud, "I must beg your assistance master Thorn. The place I wish to go is a good half-day's ride from here on horseback." The red dragon dipped his head to her, touching his nose to her forehead, "I will lend you my wings then." She smiled, climbing into the saddle on his back before turning back to Murtagh. He raised his eyebrows, she had always sat behind him in the saddle when riding the large red dragon. As if she was reading his thoughts she snorted, "I assume you know where we're going then?" He sighed, shrugging his shoulders and climbing up behind her. She glanced back at him, sticking out her lower lip, "Murtagh, this is supposed to be a fun night." He smiled gently, wrapping his arms around her, "I'm with you."

"Awwww" the voice of his partner yet again interrupted his thoughts and he drove his heels as hard as he could into the massive sides. This turned out to be a bad idea as it did nothing more than scuff his boots as they scraped against the steel-hard scales. The dragon gave a short rumble of laughter before launching himself into the air. Within moments they had left the castle far behind. Thorn glided almost silently along as Niya leaned back against Murtagh, watching his crimson wings slicing through the low hanging clouds. From up here, the land looked peaceful and calm, but Murtagh's trained eyes could pick out traces of abnormality. The roads were deserted, not even a late night traveler traversed the paths which spider-webbed through the forest. The few towns they flew over were dark, no fires burned in the town meeting places, no people sat out at night, gossiping or else sharing stories with the younger generations. In places the forests had been cleared away, their trees going to make wood for the King's siege engines or else to make weapons. These patches were like scars on the face of the Earth, opens wounds that would take centuries to fully heal.

Murtagh let out a long sigh, even the land seemed to mourn the plight of her people. He remembered a time when nature had seemed surreal, almost magical. His master had taught him many things, but apart from swordsmanship, the man had believed that understanding nature had been important. "A land will reflect the state of her people Murtagh. We are all part of a web of energy, each living creature is connected to every other. When one thing dies, another is born, this is how it has always been. The elves understand this, thus they appear beautiful and ethereal to the rest of the world. They do not tamper with the natural order of things and as such they live in peace. Humans, however, see themselves at the top of a chain, rather than as a single entity in the web of life. They kill and plunder, throwing off the balance of things and because of this, the Earth suffers. It's land becomes wild and barren, it produces thorns and weeds, reflecting the twisted state of those who inhabit it."

He closed his eyes, the words still ringing in his ears. His master had seemed so sad, so disheartened by the knowledge that humans brought such destruction. Yet, Murtagh himself had enabled more destruction than any since the Foresworn. _I caused this . . . _"But you are not too far gone as to have no chance of fixing it." He jumped as Niya's voice sounded inside his head. He hadn't even noticed her soft touch until now and he smiled, _How long have you been able to do that? _"This is the first time I ever tried. You seemed distracted and it's much easier to talk here than try and yell over the wind." _How much have you seen? _"The meeting with Galbatorix and the part about your master. He seemed like a wise man." _He was. _There was a faint pause before she spoke again, "The destruction is deep, the scars will remain for quite some time, but already you have begun to help repairing the damage."

He shook his head, closing his eyes, _If I am, it doesn't feel like it. _She leaned back against him, pressing her back into his chest, "You're protecting me from the King, as well as looking for a way out of the King's service. You are one of his most potent weapons, and in your heart you're fighting what he is forcing you to do." He pulled her closer, laying his chin on her shoulder as. "Have you ever been to a festival Murtagh?" The question was so random that it caught him off guard. His eyebrows raised, _Of course, Urû'baen has them every now and then._ She shook her head, her hair flying behind her in the wind, "No, not that kind. I mean a real, country festival, one without the threat of imminent death if you insult the host."

When he didn't respond she continued, "The town we are going to is one that lies on the outer rim of Galbatorix kingdom. It's small villages like this one that are hit the hardest by the war. Their men are taken and pressed into the army, their women scrounge for a living off the ravaged and war-torn land and the children grown up in filth and poverty." Thorn began to descend and Murtagh held tightly to Niya as the crimson dragon touched down, his wings skimming the tips of the trees as he thudded to the ground. She swung off him, bowing as she spoke "Thank you my lord." The dragon nodded as Murtagh leapt off and she turned her attention to the man. "Zarroc stays." The black-haired boy opened his mouth to protest, but she narrowed her eyes dangerously and he closed his mouth, un-strapping the sword from his waist and clipping it onto the saddle. Thorn's amused rumbling echoed in his mind for a moment before the massive creature took, off climbing quickly before disappearing into the clouds again. Murtagh stared after him in confusion, finally turning to the girl. She smiled, "My apologies, but these people might be a little frightened if Murtagh, the servant of the King showed up at their party. Most of them don't know who you are, it's Thorn that makes it obvious."He could see the logic in her words and when she turned and strode confidently into the forest, he followed her without hesitation.

After about twenty minutes, he saw a light gleaming through the trees. The sound of music and laughter floated to him on the soft breeze. "What is that?" he murmured. Niya turned to him, smiling, "This small town always has a festival to celebrate the harvest." They emerged from the forest into a town square. A bonfire burned in the center of it. A group of musicians sat near the fire, some playing violins and others banging on drums or playing flutes. Some girls around Niya's age danced around the fire, playing the tambourine. Older members of the community sat on makeshift benches, sipping ale or eating cakes as the younger children chased each other around. Couples danced near the fire, their feet beating in time to the music.

Off to one side, an old man sat on a tree stump, surrounded by a group of children. He appeared to be telling a story, his hands moved emphatically as he spoke and the children laughed as if he had just told a joke. Suddenly his head turned and his eyes lit upon Niya. Murtagh had expected him to cry out a warning, to at least ask who they were. Instead, the old man's smile widened and he waved to her, "Lady Niya!" At his words, the children all turned, their faces lighting up as they rushed toward her with glad cries. Murtagh sidestepped as the crowd of youngsters piled on the young girl, hugging her waist and legs as they laughed, "Lady Niya you're back!" "Big sister, where have you been?" "Do you have any new stories?" "Yes stories! Stories!" The cry was taken up by all the young children and Niya laughed, disentangling herself from the mob of youngsters. "Yes, I have some new stories for you."

They all cried out in delight, rushing back to sit around the stump of the tree as she smiled at Murtagh. Taking his hand, she led him over to the stump, before greeting the old man. "Elder Sampson, it is good to see you again." He smiled, gripping her hand before kissing both her cheeks, "Lady Niya, you appearance is always welcome here. And this time you have brought a friend." She nodded, pulling Murtagh forward, "This is Kaiser, a fellow wanderer I met on my travels." The old man smiled, gripping Murtagh's hand, "Well, a friend of Niya's is always welcome here." As she seated herself upon the stump, she looked back up at him, "Kaiser, why don't you go and have a drink with the men? I will join you once I finish here." Before he could open his mouth to reply, the old man had seized him by the shoulders, steering him over toward where a group of men sat on a porch.

They reached the porch and the men called greetings as the old man introduced him as a friend of Niya. Within a few moments, he found himself forced into a chair, a pitcher of ale forced into his hand, and a slice of honey bread in a cloth on his lap. While he was unable to participate in most of their talk, which was mainly about the harvest and gossip from around town, he found himself enjoying the idle banter. The ale was good and the bread melted in his mouth. Finishing both, he turned to the old man, who had taken a seat next to him, "How did you come to meet Niya?"

The old man smiled, his gaze turning toward the girl, who had all the children staring at her as if mesmerized. "She came to us many years ago, when she was but a young teenager. At the time, our small city was playing host to a legion of Galbatorix's soldiers. They were eating us out of house and home, our people were starving and they polluted the river with their trash and filth. They were tyrannical, raping our young women and causing chaos in the streets. She strode, singlehandedly into their camp and, in one night, drove them all away without spilling a drop of blood. They ran, spewing stories of a ghost, a warrior spirit with a soul-reaping blade. They never returned, fear of the spirit still runs rampant in the surrounding cities, they never refuse a trade with us for fear the warrior will slaughter them in their beds."

He sighed, gazing at her, "She was so young then, so young to be involved in such a terrible business as war. To see her now, as a beautiful young woman brings me great joy, but to see her like this, to see her happy, brings me even greater joy." His smile widened as he turned back to Murtagh, "Her eyes are bright and clear, as I have never seen them before. Her smile is not hollow, as it once was. You have brought much happiness into her life Kaiser." Murtagh shifted uneasily, "I am only human, and not near as good of a human as she is." The man shook his head, "You have brought light to one who gave us light. Anyone who brings joy and hope into the life of another is a good human." Murtagh stared at the old man, as the words slowly sank in. It seemed a simple, rather rudimentary concept, and yet he could see the truth in. This was the mindset that allowed these people to remain so joyous in such a dark time.

"Sampson isn't boring you with his stories isn't he?" Murtagh looked up to see Niya standing at the edge of the porch, a smile on her face. He chuckled, "Not at all, I'm just enjoying the ambience." She laughed, "May I steal you for a dance?" He nodded, setting down his empty pitcher and climbing to his feet. She took his head, dropping her cloak on the porch and leading him over near the fire. It wasn't long before he lost himself in the music. Niya was a much better dancer than he had expected. She twirled and dipped and swayed with the music, her hair and clothes swirling around her. He did his best to mimic her motions and, despite several missteps and near collisions, he found himself utterly enjoying this outing.

By the time they staggered back over the porch, both drenched in sweat and shaking with exhaustion, the moon was high in the sky. Leaning back against the edge of the porch, Murtagh reached forward, putting his arms around her. She leaned back against him, smiling, "Murtagh, things like this, this is what we are fighting for." She gestured to the children, who had returned to their places around the stump and were again listening to Sampson's stories. "They have never known a world without war. They have never known true freedom, yet even here hope abounds." She looked up at him, "If such young, powerless creatures can have faith, what can be said of those of us who have the power to alter the course of history, yet fall into despair?"

He leaned his face into her hair, "I do not know what I can do." She closed her hand over his, "Trust Eragon, accept his help in finding a way to free you. Believe that he cares for you and will find a way to save you." "How can you have such faith in a man you've never met?" Murtagh whispered, breathing in her comforting smell. She smiled yet again, "Because I know you. No kin of yours could be anything less than a hero." He closed his eyes pulling her more tightly against him. She heaved a long sigh, "We need to get back, I'm exhausted." Murtagh nodded, mentally contacting his partner. It took them twenty minutes to say goodbye to all the villagers, who followed them a ways, offering them more ale and honey bread. They met Thorn back in the woods and rode in silence back to the castle.

_Thorn? _The dragon growled in response, a single eye rolling back in Murtagh's direction. _What do you think of me taking Eragon up on his offer? _There were a few moments of silence before the dragon rumbled, "Do you think he can find a way to free us?" _He found a way to avoid the Razak and sneak a dragon through Galbatorix's kingdom and to the Varden. _"A simple yes would have sufficed." Murtagh noticed Niya's head beginning to nod and quickly tightened his grip on the girl who sat in front of him. _Do you think it's even possible to free us? _"I wouldn't be able to say." Thorn murmured, his eyes narrowing, "However, if your brother has been training with the Elves, it is possible that he may have learned magic that we are, as of yet, unaware of. Galbatorix may teach you, but even he doesn't know everything." _How would we get in contact with him though? The Varden would hardly accept a messenger from me._

The dragon turned his head slightly, staring at the girl who was now asleep in Murtagh's arms. "Niya has already made an attempt to contact him." In response to Murtagh's astonished look, the dragon continued, "There was a member of the Varden being held in the dungeons. Galbatorix did not know of his connection, if he did I don't think Raik would still be alive. She convinced him to take our message to the Varden by implanting some false memories in his mind before she released him. If everything goes smoothly give your message to Eragon." A smile touched the young man's mouth as he pulled the girl back against him, pressing his face into her hair again. "She always seems to be a few steps ahead of you Murtagh." _That makes sense. She knows me better than I know myself. _He barely remembered Thorn touching down outside the castle, barely remembered carrying a sleeping Niya through the corridors. What he remembered that night were the dreams, of children singing, adults laughing, and Niya dancing with the light of the fire in her eyes.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

He awoke the next day to find the sun already high in the sky. Niya still curled beside him, her chest rising and falling rhythmically. Her head rested on his chest, her left arm thrown around his waist. He gave a small sigh, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. He saw her smile in her sleep and she snuggled closer against him. "So when were you going to tell me you sent a message to Eragon?" She chuckled softly before mumbling, "Is this your master plan? To ask me questions while I'm half asleep?" "Answer me." One eye opened for a moment, fixing on his face before closing again, "Even if you didn't care, I don't want you to be under Galbatorix control. You're a good person and even if you didn't realize it, what he's making you do is killing you inside."

Murtagh's smile widened as he tapped her shoulder, "Well, I think it's time for breakfast." She yawned, rolling away from him and pulling the covers up to her neck, "Sounds good, I'll take some toast and bacon." He sat up, staring over at her, "Aren't you my maid?" "Don't you have hands?" He laughed, sliding over toward her and poking her in the side, "Oh come on, I'm not nearly as good a cook as you are." She growled at him, grabbing his hand and attempting to pin it against the bed. He wrapped his arms around her, dragging her out of the bed and toward the kitchen. Despite the ferocious look on her face, he could see the humor in her eyes as she twisted out of his arms, tackling him back against the wall. He flipped her easily, rolling them both over until he could pin her to the ground. She was smiling as well now, both of them laughing as she attempted to force him off.

Suddenly he saw a look of shock fly across her face and, for a split second, her dark eyes flashed silver. Just as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished. She blinked a few times, as if she couldn't quite see him properly, then her face cleared. His smile had vanished and he stared at her intently, the hair on the back of his neck prickly. She raised an eyebrow, "Are you going to get off me?" "What was that?" he growled, climbing to his feet and reaching down to help her up. She shook her head, "I'm not completely sure. I think traces of Chand's magic still linger on me. I see things . . . images . . . it's strange." She laid a hand on her forehead, her eyes not puzzled and worried. He put an arm around her shoulders, "Come on, let's get some food."

Steering her to the kitchen, he grabbed an apple from the fruit basket, slicing it into pieces and handing half to her. She took a bite, licking her lips to clear the juice from them. Her dark eyes were still narrowed, confused as she stared out of the window. "What did you see?" he asked gently, biting into his apple. She closed her eyes, shaking her head. "It was all a blur, a small town, a forest, a house on the bank of a dirty river . . ." The apple fell out of her hand, hitting the ground. Her eyes flew open and a look of horror suddenly touched her face. She turned on heel, bolting into her room and slamming the door behind her. A few minutes later, she re-emerged, clad in hunting gear and with Adurna clasped to her side. She wore her customary black cloak, but this was not what worried him.

In her eyes there was a look of incoherent fury, anger fueled by fear. Murtagh felt his blood run cold as she brushed past him, rushing toward the door. "Niya?" He reached forward, closing his hand around her wrist. Her dark eyes narrowed as she whipped around and he almost recoiled at the wild look in her eyes. A shiver of fear went down his spine as he stared at her. Seeing his reaction, she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. When she opened them, her gaze was calmer, but he shivered at the look of sheer lethality. "Murtagh, give me an order to head somewhere north." He blinked, "What?" "Give me an order. If Galbatorix asks, you have to be able to say that you sent me on an errand." Gathering his wits, Murtagh swallowed, "Well . . . um . . . I get my arrows from the town of Kaosen. Go and collect more for me."

She nodded, pulling her arm out of his grasp. "Niya, what's going on?" He asked softly, watching her stride toward the door. She sighed, glancing back over her shoulder, "Something has happened that requires my immediate attention. I may not be back until tomorrow, but I will return." She stepped through the door, closing it behind her. Murtagh was left standing in the kitchen, a look of complete confusion on his face. _What just happened here? _Thorn's soft rumble echoed in his head as the dragon responded. "I have never felt any fear of a human . . . but I have never seen such an inhuman look before." _Can you follow her? _"I wouldn't risk it, if she even let you in on where she was headed just so Galbatorix won't be suspicious, it must be important." _I've never seen her that riled up before. _

There were a few minutes of silence before the dragon spoke again. "Continue with your day as if nothing had happened. Niya is a strong warrior . . . and that's as close to battle-fury as I have seen her get. Nothing will be able to harm her." Murtagh nodded, only half listening as his dragon continued, "You must not give Galbatorix a reason to become suspicious." Even as the words left his mouth, there was a knock on the door and it swung open. The King himself stood in the entrance, his dark, piercing eyes fixed on his servant. Murtagh bowed instinctively, "My King." The older man strode in, his gaze never leaving the young man's face. "Your young maid just left the castle in quite a hurry Murtagh. Is something the matter?" Murtagh felt his tongue lock up as he made to say no. Swallowing, he tried a different track, "I sent her out to buy more arrows. I'm afraid the stock I have are proving to be ill made, a bad batch perhaps, or maybe just getting worn from disuse."

He gestured toward the bow and quiver of arrows which sat in the corner as he spoke. The King stared for a moment before smiling, "Well, I would hate to see such weapons go to waste from lack of use." Striding over to where the arrows lay, he picked one up, examining it idly as he continued, "I need you to visit Helgrind. I have a new assignment for my little pets and I wish for them to start immediately." The King's eyes narrowed, "I have received word that a merchant in Gil'ead has been sending supplies to the Varden, ships and food and weapons and such." His fingers tightened on the shaft of the arrows and it snapped in half, leaving him with only the broken splinters in his fist. "You will go and see to it that the people understand that such treachery will not be tolerated. Do you understand?" Murtagh felt the bile well up in his throat at the thought, but he kept his face carefully neutral. "When shall I leave my King?"

The man turned, facing the dark-haired youth, "As soon as possible. I take treachery very VERY seriously Murtagh." For the second time that day, a shiver of fear crept up the man's spine. Shaking it off, he bowed, "As you wish, I will leave at once." The King nodded, his eyes lingering on Murtagh's for a moment longer before he strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him. "What do you wish to do Murtagh?" Thorn's voice startled him and he jumped, his entire body trembling. _There's nothing we can do but obey his orders. We can't let him suspect anything to be wrong until we can be sure we're free of his control. _He heard his partner growl, could almost see the crimson tail lashing with anger as Thorn hissed, "How much longer will we remain slaves Murtagh?" The dark-haired boy shook his head, striding back into his room and taking a hold of Zarroc. _I don't know my friend. We must trust in Niya now, believe that she has a plan and can help us reclaim our freedom. _"So much rests upon her shoulders. I hope she returns soon." _So do I Thorn, so do I._


	17. Chapter 17

**I DO NOT OWN ERAGON IN ANY WAY!**

**Chapter 17**

But Niya didn't return soon. Even four days later, when Murtagh and his partner returned to the castle, leaving nearly a quarter of Gil'ead smoldering in their wake, Niya was not there. A deep, nameless fear tugged constantly at Murtagh's heart with each hour the young woman failed to appear. Thorn spoke to him often, reminding him that Niya had survived alone in the world for years before he had known her, but the dragon's words often fell on deaf ears. All too often, Murtagh found himself lying awake at night, staring up at the ceiling as he mentally combed the land for her. He found that his consciousness could expand much farther than he had thought possible, sometimes reaching to neighboring towns and cities. _I promised . . . I promised Chand I would keep her safe . . . _It wasn't until three days after his return that she finally appeared.

He was lying on the couch, unable to face another night sleeping alone in his bed, when the door opened and she slipped inside. She was doubled over and seemed to be limping slightly as she made her way over to her chamber. "And where have you been?" he asked, having to force himself to remain calm as he climbed to his feet. She stopped, her head swiveling to the sound of his voice. A soft laugh sounded through the darkness, he had never heard a more welcome sound. It was exhausted and weak, but it was hers. "Caught, I really need to be more careful." He walked over to her, reaching out to grab her arm, "What's happened?" She shook her head, inching away from him, "Nothing." As she spoke, he saw her hand tighten, drawing her cloak further around her. She tried to slip past him and he gripped her forearm. He could feel a sticky liquid on her skin and when he looked, crimson blood oozed through his fingers.

He released her, his anger receding slightly as it was overrun by concern. "Let me heal you." She looked at him for a moment, and then shrugged, holding out her forearms. He felt his skin crawl as he stared at the ghastly wounds. Cuts all over her arms dripped blood, some seemed to be healing on their own, and others oozed horribly. He murmured a few words in the ancient language, waving his hand over the wounds. The skin flowed back together like water and she grabbed a spare towel from near the sink, wiping the blood off her freshly healed arms. Even so, he could still see pain etched in every line of her body as she moved, as if even making small motions was excruciating.

"Niya, what happened?" She didn't answer, merely brushed past him as she limped toward her room. He followed her silently, watching as she lit the lamp which sat on her nightstand. Her cloak was soaked in mud and blood, it was ripped in several places, and pieces had been cut out so cleanly that the blows could only have been delivered by a blade. She reached beneath her cloak, pulling out a blood-stained satchel and placing it gently next to the bed before turning to look at him, "I'm fine Murtagh." "Then why haven't you healed yourself?" She didn't respond again and he took the opportunity to answer for her, "You're nearly out of magic, aren't you?" She grunted, easing herself onto her bed, "It took . . . much more energy . . . than I had anticipated." She stripped off her cloak and he felt his stomach turn as he gazed at her.

Her bare torso showed only a few scratches, but he could see the rips in her clothes that indicated more gashes. He gingerly slipped his fingers beneath the hem of her shirt, "I need to take this off so I can heal you. Can you get your arms up that far?" Wincing slightly, she lifted her arms slowly, cracking the freshly healed scabs on her back so that more blood oozed down her skin. Aside from several, obvious blade marks which laid her skin open to the bone, he saw several stab wounds, marks from either arrows or small daggers. He quelled the question which was wriggling impatiently on his tongue, instead focusing his attention on healing her. It was rather difficult, as the only thing covering her upper body was a bra which was nearly torn in two. His partner's laughter was difficult to drown out as Murtagh felt his temperature begin to rise.

Finally concentrating his full attention on his partner, the connection was severed and his attention returning to the girl in front of him. "Why were you gone so long?" he asked casually, laying his hand on one of the stab wounds and murmuring a few words in the ancient language. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then she shrugged, "Tracking." Murtagh shook his head, "Don't lie to me, Niya. You say you'll be gone for a day or so and then vanish for near a week. I deserve some answers." There was a long pause before she whispered, "An elite guard was bringing both Raik and the letter back to the King. He was caught trying to smuggle his family out of their hometown. I had to . . . dispose of all the evidence."

"You killed them?" Murtagh's shock was obvious in his voice and she shook her head, "No . . . only the king's guards. Raik was killed by one of the guards in the fray, but the wife, son, and baby all escaped." Murtagh gently pressed down on her side and she winced as he felt the broken ribs beneath her flesh, "How many were there?" "Twelve" Murtaugh murmured a few more words, feeling her ribs knit beneath his fingers as she let out a soft sigh of relief. There was another pause before Murtagh whispered, "Why would you risk your life . . . for that?" She grunted, remaining silent for a second before she whispered, "I won't let anyone harm you Murtagh. Not even Galbatorix himself."

He leaned down, pressing his lips against her back. She jumped slightly and he could feel her body trembling with exhaustion, but she pressed back against him. He leaned his head against her, his black hair falling in his face. "Niya," he whispered her name softly, "why are you still here?" She was silent and he continued, "You're a magic user, a master swordswoman, and you would give your life to overthrow Galbatorix. You're the type of person who should be walking at Eragon's side. Why are you still here with me?" She turned, her hand gently touching his cheek, lifting his head until he was staring into her eyes. "Because you are a good person, you've just lost your way." He stared at her for a long moment, "How can you believe that?"

He saw her smile, a gesture that showed more in her eyes than her mouth, "Because I believe in you, in your strength, in your courage, and in your heart." He stared into her gentle, glowing eyes. "Niya," he whispered, "the man you believe in is a lie." She shook her head, shifting on his bed so that she was facing him. "No Murtagh, you have not lost yourself, only your emotions and the ability to feel." She leaned forward, putting her head on his shoulder, "In your duties as a Dragon Rider, you've forgotten how it feels to be human." Unbidden, his arms snaked around her waist as he buried his face in her hair, "I'm barely a human anymore." She leaned against him, relishing the feeling of his arms around her. Murtagh breathed in her gentle scent, she felt as if she was made for him. She nuzzled her way into the crook of his neck, pressing her forehead against his warm skin, "You breathe, you feel pain and fear and joy, you know what it is to love and lose someone you love."

He glanced down at the slender figure leaning against him. As strong as he knew she was, she seemed so fragile to him. Her fists were closed on his shirt, as if she was afraid he would be gone if she ever let go. Murtagh raised a gentle hand to stroke her lower back, tracing patterns over the smooth skin, "I will not lose you." She shook her head, "I have no intention of running again." Murtagh glanced down at her, taking in her exotic beauty, "Again?" Her entire body tensed and she murmured, "I am old Murtagh, I have seen winters, summers, springs and falls. They pass before me as water under a bridge. The world around me has changed, evolved. Whole lifetimes flashed before my eyes as I remained unchanged."

She stared down at her hands, her fingers clenching together as her fists tightened, "Running prevents attachment, prevents pain when the life of those you love appears as the blink of an eye to you. Yet for all my shields, you have tied me down, given me an anchor to cling to in the storm that is time." He was silent for a long moment, gazing at the dark-eyed girl. Finally she murmured, "Murtagh, I will find a way to free you." He smiled, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face, "I know, but for now you have been weakened. You need to rest." She nodded a few times, exhaustion creeping its way into her eyes. Reaching down, she stuck her hand inside the blood-stained bag and removed a cylindrical, buckskin tube. "Your arrows are in here."

He took it, watching as she wiped the blood of her freshly healed body. "Is there anything I can get you?" She shook her head, lifting the blanket from her bed and sliding inside of it, "No, I just need . . . rest . . . time to recover." He nodded, standing up and gingerly laying the blanket over her. She looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, "All will be well Murtagh." He smiled, laying a kiss on her forehead before turning and extinguishing the lamp on the nightstand. Moving across the darkened room, he slipped outside and closed the door as quietly as possible. _Thorn? _"What? Is the fun already over?" The dragon's gruff voice was laced in amusement. _Oh shut up, she's half dead. _"And that stopped you?" Ignoring the jab, he spoke, Seriously_ Thorn, did you sense anything out of the ordinary over the past week? Any magical disturbances?_

The dragon seemed to consider for a moment before growling, "Nothing tangible that I can recall . . . but there's this horrible heaviness in the air." He paused for a second, then continued, "It feels like the world is holding its breath, like something important . . . or horrible is about to happen." Murtagh's eyebrows rose, as he stepped through the door, back into his own room. _I sensed no such thing. _"That's not surprising." Thorn growled, "You humans never do, but I feel it in the air, in the water, as if the Earth itself is teetering on the brink of some event." There were a few moments of silence before Murtagh responded; _Do you have any idea what? _"No . . . but whatever it is, it's coming Murtagh." The young man hesitated in the act of climbing into bed, and then sighed, slipping beneath the covers and laying back against the pillow, He stared up at the ceiling, not really taking in a bit of what he was seeing. His eyes felt heavy and it felt like the last hour had lasted years. Rolling over, he closed his eyes, pulling the covers up over his head. _We cannot stop it, whatever it is. We shall have to wait and react when the time comes._


	18. Chapter 18

**I DO NOT OWN ERAGON!**

**Chapter 18**

Murtagh dreamed. He and Thorn flew through a vast mountain range. The peaks and cliffs were cloaked in a thick veil of mist, appearing only as shadows in the dim light. Below them, a sea of grass swayed gently, cut through by dark rivers that wound playfully between the feet of marble mountains. Ahead of them, the sun set upon the horizon while the night arose behind them. The blood red light of the setting orb painted the mist a wonderful crimson color. Murtagh felt pleasantly sleepy, his eyes drifting over the beauty of the scenery as Thorn glided along smoothly, his wings skimming the mist. From somewhere in the distance, a faint humming noise emanated: a dull humming that existed barely on the edge of hearing. It was soft, peaceful, it only added to the feeling of calm that had enveloped the young rider.

Suddenly a voice cut through the beauty of the morning. It was harsh and rough, it hurt his ears after the dull softness of the humming noise. "Awaken young rider." He groaned; wincing as the voice seemed to grate against his consciousness. It came again, this time more urgently, "Open your eyes Murtagh, look around you!" The voice disturbed the beauty of the scene. The grasses danced a little more wildly and the mountains seemed to tremble as the voice echoed through their vast peaks. The dull hum grew deeper, as if attempting to drown out the invading noise.

Yet the voice was vaguely familiar, it called to Murtagh from the depths of his memory. His brow furrowed as he tried to remember where he had heard it before. The thrumming noise grew louder yet again, and a soft, melodic voice whispered in his ear, "Do not be troubled. All is well Murtagh." It was gentle and warm, and it seemed sweet compared to the coarseness of the other voice. Murtagh smiled, closing his eyes as he slipped back into his blissful stupor. "Hóna eka Murtagh!" The voice seemed to ring through the mountains again, this time powerful and commanding.

Suddenly his gedwëy ignasia began to glow and his head throbbed. The voice spoke again, but this time it was recognizable. Chand murmured in his mind, "Open your eyes Dragon Rider. See the world around you as it truly is." His eyes flashed silver and as he looked around, his stomach clenched. His new eyes pierced the mist, peeling back the veil around him and revealing the utter chaos. What he had thought to be mountains were mounds of skeletons piled on top of each other until they seemed to pierce the heavens above. The bones of men, women, children, urgals, and animals had been thrown together in a heap, their blank, unseeing eye-sockets appearing as black pits against the bleached white of their skulls.

Below him, the grasses that he been dancing so joyously revealed their true form. A massive group of humans were gathered in the valley. It was they who created the humming noise. The hundreds of thousands of people in the valley were moaning, crying out in a single voice that now sounded ghastly and horrid compared. They raised their hands to the heavens as if reaching for the stars, crying out for some god who couldn't hear their pleas. Blood ran from gashes and holes in their bodies, melding together to form the rivers which oozed sluggishly along their courses. They raised tortured faces to the heavens, their naked bodies pressed so tightly together one couldn't distinguish one human from those beside him.

Murtagh vomited, leaning over Thorn's side as his stomach heaved in response to his surroundings. The sun was slowly lowering over the horizon as the night crept up behind him. As he glanced back over his shoulder, a sudden, irrational fear gripped him and he drummed his heels upon Thorn's side. The dragon leapt forward, arching like an arrow after the retreating light. Beneath him, the moaning intensified as the people began to scream in response to the growing darkness. It moved like a veil across the land, a line of tar black that enveloped everything in its path. And it was coming for him. The shadows seemed to reach out like an invisible hand, wanting to grasp Murtagh, hold him tightly in the darkness where he would be lost forever. The sun dipped below the horizon, dying in a brilliant flash of red light. And then the shadow overtook him.

It hit like a wave, carrying him out of the saddle. Thorn's roar of terror was cut short as the darkness engulfed them. Murtagh couldn't tell if he was falling or floating, he could see nothing. He screamed raising Zarroc and slashing at the darkness that threatened to overwhelm him. Silence fell as the black wave washed over him, silencing even the concussion of Thorn's mighty wings upon the air. He gazed around wildly as his sword met nothing but empty air.

High above him, a single point of light quavered in the sea of blackness. He reached for it, unable to even see the hand he stretched before him. Something heavy bumped against his chest and he reached up, his hand closing around the amulet Niya had given him. It felt warm against his fingers and it seemed to pulse in his hand, as if it had a heartbeat of its own. The faint thud grew steadily louder as he clutched the pendant to his chest, reaching for the ever-shrinking point of light in the sky. Then Chand's voice whispered again in his head, "Un du arget skulblakas rïsa, du súndavar weohnata jierda."

The point of light strengthened and a silvery beam shot down through the darkness. It seemed to pierce his chest at the place where the amulet thudded so wildly against his skin. Yet it did not hurt, it was a wonderful, exhilarating feeling. His clothing and hair whipped around him as the beam of light widened, encasing him within a cylinder of silver wind. The darkness receded, shrinking back as the light expanded. It was then that Murtagh saw it.

A silver dragon hovered high above him. The small heart amulet in his hands pulsed in time with the mighty dragon's wing-beats. The dragon's neck was arched proudly, as it gazed down at him with intense blue eyes. On its back sat an armored figure. A burnished silver helm adorned its head, matching the metal which covered the rest of the body. So alike in shade were the armor and dragon that it was difficult to tell where the rider ended and the dragon begun. The pair began to glow with a silver white light that grew more and more intense until Murtagh was forced to shield his eyes from the glow. Chand's voice whispered in his ear one last time, "The time has come."

Hóna eka – Hear me

Un du arget skulblakas rïsa, du súndavar weohnata jierda – With the silver dragon's rise, the shadows will break


	19. Chapter 19

**I DO NOT OWN ERAGON!**

**Chapter 19**

Murtagh jerked awake, his heart thumping wildly. For a moment, his eyes roved the shadows of his room, and then Thorn entered his thoughts.

"Did you feel that?"

_I did. _Murtagh answered.

_What was it? _

"I don't know, but it felt close, very close_._"

"Niya!" Murtagh gasped. He scrambled out of bed and padded over to her door. Something made him hesitate before opening the door and second later, Niya's voice floated out of it. A normal human wouldn't have heard anything, but he was a Dragon Rider, his senses were much more acute. There was a short squeak then Niya whispered, "Shh, be quite. If someone hears you we're both in trouble." Murtagh pushed open the door and Niya whipped around, her hand flying to Adurna. Her other hand shoved something behind her back and she raised her blade. "Niya?" he asked, his eyes boring into her. She looked both determined and apologetic, but what caught his attention most was the fear in her eyes. There was another squeak from behind her back and she glared at him. "What's going on?" Her eyes darted from him to the door behind him, as though calculating how fast she could get there. "Niya, you know I won't do anything to harm you." He pleaded, her glare softened, but not much. "Vel eïnradhin iet ai Shur'tugal." She seemed to sag and the sword lowered and was sheathed. She stepped aside and revealed what was behind her. A small, silver dragon sat on the bed.

Its wings were folded against its body and its triangular head peered curiously up at him. "No." he whispered, "But where, how?" She held up her palm so that the gedwëy ignasia was exposed and she said, "I returned to the Twilight Valley after killing the guards. I could hear a voice in my head, it was calling to me." Her eyes narrowed, "I followed it to the Moonlit Mirror. It was the egg that created the light. I followed the song to the bottom of the pool and retrieved it." He could hear the pleading note in her voice as though she was trying to will him to see her reasoning.

He glanced behind him, and then turned back to her, "We have to get you out of here now. Pack your things." She nodded and began throwing stuff into the bag, but she asked, "Why?" "Are you stupid?" he snarled at her, "I felt the dragon touch you and I'm sure the king did too. If you stay and he finds you, he'll force you to swear loyalty to him as he did Thorn and I." He watched as she hoisted her full pack onto her back and picked up the small dragon. It was dozing peaceably now and it hummed as she cradled it against her chest. _Thorn I need you to meet me outside the window. _The dragon took off and as they reached the window, the moonlight was obscured by his blood red wings. Murtagh jumped into the saddle on his back and pulled the girl on after him. _Take us away from here. _He growled as he settled her before him in the saddle. _Where? Anywhere! _The dragon flared his wings and they sped off into the night.

Murtagh kept a grip on her waist as they glided away from the castle. "Where are we going?" She asked, her voice small and low. "I'm taking you to the Beors." he growled, sending this message to Thorn. Almost simultaneously they both yelled, "The Beor Mountains? Are you crazy?" He flinched, both from the pain in his ears and the pain in his head. "You can't go there, not only will it take the king right where he needs to go, but they'll shoot you on sight!" she hissed. _I really do like her. _Thorn growled. He felt a surge of amusement mixed with anger and he growled, "Fine, then where do you want to go?" "Take me to my house. I know the territory, and then you won't know where I am." She said after a moment of thought. Thorn banked right and sped up, racing toward their destination.

"You're putting yourself and Thorn in great danger, you know that. Why?" she asked softly. "Wiol ono." he murmured. She smiled back at him and he felt Thorn's amusement in his mind. "When we get there, we'll have to return to the castle. Go to the Beors, find the Varden, and find Eragon. He'll know what to do with you." The forest seemed quiet, subdued. This time there were no ghostly specters. Even the far off darkness at the heart of the forest seemed silenced. Within moments they were landing by the ruins of her house. She slid off the dragon and glanced around. Murtagh followed her, his face unreadable.

There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to tell her, but there wasn't time now. He grabbed her arm, jerked her around, and kissed her. She let the dragon scuttle from her grasp and he settled on the ground. Thorn growled "there's not much time_._"and Murtagh backed away. She whispered, "Does this mean that the next time we meet, we'll have to fight?" "Maybe, I don't know." he said softly, "But promise me that you'll fight." "But" she began to protest, "Promise me." he growled. "Vel eïnradhin iet ai Shur'tugal." she said, a faint smile gracing her lips. He nodded, "Sé onr sverdar sitja hvass." he said as he remounted Thorn. "Sé mor'ranr ono finna." she answered. He spoke to Thorn and the dragon flared his wings. "Murtagh" she cried as the dragon gathered himself. "I love you!" she called after him and they rose into the air. His last view of her was of her cloak flapping in the wind stirred up by Thorn's wings. The silver lining of her dress glowed as it did the night he'd first met her and her hand was raised in a sorrowful wave. And by her side, a small silver dragon who looked on with clear, bright eyes.

****FIN****

Vel eïnradhin iet ai Shur'tugal – Upon my word as a rider.

Sé onr sverdar sitja hvass – May your swords stay sharp.

Sé mor'ranr ono finna – May you find peace.


End file.
